Within This Nightmare
by Usami
Summary: /post 'Good Genes' part 2/ The virus has been cured, but his nightmare isn't over yet. And Donatello has a disturbing feeling that he won't make it to morning.
1. Prologue

So I suppose I could start by explain how I had grown up watching and enjoying the old _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_ cartoon, but somehow fell out of it as I grew older. I could continue on by saying how I got back into the show after my older sister received an old Dreamcast for Christmas just last year, and because of that we were able to play our old SNES game CD that happened to have _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Turtles in Time_ on it. And due to being able to play that old game, I somehow ended up watching the new TMNT show that had begun in 2003, and enjoyed it despite it being different from the cartoon I had seen back in my childhood.

However...To explain the entire story would probably take up more time and words than this prologue. I think all you guys need to know is that Donatello has always been my favorite turtle, and this is my first TMNT story.

As a true novice, I've only managed to see a sparse number of the 2003 TMNT show. So if I somehow miraculously continue on with this story, please keep that in mind. I'll try to write the best I can, but remember I'll be writing based on limited knowledge (and if someone would like to help me fix that problem by informing me of a place to view more episodes, I'd be very grateful).

I have, however, seen the episodes "Same as it Never Was", "Adventures in Turtle Sitting", and "Good Genes" part 1 and 2. As you will probably tell from this prologue, this story is going to be heavily influenced by those episodes.

Actually, that's only half true. I think what might end up happening is that for the first half of the entire story, it will be more _heavily_ influenced by the aforementioned episodes. The second half will be _heavily_ influenced by another episode that I've seen (and won't mention now, because I don't want to spoil the surprise).

But enough out of me. Enjoy.

**Within This Nightmare**

The clatter of metal against the concrete floor suddenly reverberated against the walls, startling him from his work. With quick realization, he just managed to catch his current project before it had a chance to meet the same fate with the ground.

Placing his work down on the table before him, he winced a bit as he slowly bent down and reached for the fallen tool that lay beside his feet, holding his breathe as he waited, partially expecting for someone – anyone – to leave their room and catch him at his station, working instead of being asleep as he should have been.

Fortunately for him, several minutes passed without the silence being broken. Sighing softly in relief, he placed the tool down on the table. It seemed that the clamor had been so loud only in his mind, and he wouldn't have to worry about any further chastising for not resting, especially so late at night.

Or early that morning…it was difficult to tell which.

Placing a hand to his forehead and rubbing his burning eyes, Donatello inhaled deeply and released the breath slowly. He was quite aware that he should have been sleeping at the time instead of tinkering with the various gadgets that lay strewn on his table, and truthfully he wanted nothing more than to abandon himself to sleep. It was beginning to become a struggle staying up for so long, and given his current condition he was surprised that he had managed to last that long without dropping anything else.

But what his body craved the most was what his mind refused to give. For he knew that even if he allowed himself to sleep, the nightmares that plagued him would prevent any of the peace that he desperately sought for. The dreams that haunted the darkness of his subconscious every night were far worse than any kind he had ever experienced when he had been growing up. The nightmares of his childhood were nothing compared to the ones he was having now.

Because the visions were more than just nightmares…They had once been _real_.

Given the type of lifestyle that his family lived – the battles they had to fight, the hardships they were forced to face, atop different aspects of ordinary house life that "normal" families would probably never have to endure – it seemed only natural that there would be certain moments that stood out from the rest in their memories…Moments of both good and bad, instances of happiness and sorrow that would reside in their minds for much longer periods of time, things that would be much harder to forget than others.

But for Donatello…he knew that the nightmares that continued to disturb him would _never_ be forgotten, even though he wished to at least overcome them, as he had done once before. Still that desire constantly eluded him, casting him into the fearsome world of the same two terrible experiences and forcing him to relive them over and over again.

The first of the terrible dreams had occurred shortly after they all had returned from being scattered across the universe by Ultimate Draco. While his brothers had described the worlds they had seen and the events they had been involved in, he had hesitated to elucidate the full details of his own adventures to them. All he had finally told them was that the world he had visited was completely controlled by the Shredder, but they had managed to overtake him and win.

Master Splinter was the only one who knew the entire truth to his story, and it had still taken him several days before he could bring himself to confess the whole account to their sensei.

For a long time afterwards – and even sometimes still – he had such trouble looking at any of his brothers without seeing their aged, war-torn, and exhausted faces…To watch Michelangelo and not see the stump of a missing arm and the hardened, almost cold expression in those eyes…To look at Leonardo and not imagine the scars that left a grisly illustration across his head, or the sunglasses that vainly attempted to cover glossy eyes…To see Raphael and not think of the sewn-up bandana covering a missing eye or feel the desperation in that one, fleeting embrace…And even to glance at Master Splinter and never recall the sleek stone slab that marked his final resting spot with his walking stick leaning against it, almost protecting the burial place from the Shredder's menacing army just nearby.

During the day when he was with his family, he would briefly see the ghosts of these images in his mind, making it difficult for him to ever speak with them, or even to look them in the eyes. But during the night, left alone with only the darkness both around and within him…the memories returned with full force, clearly unfolding the events before him and compelling him to witness it again and again…To watch time after time as his brothers fell, one by one…to hear their last words before they finally rejoined Splinter to whatever lay beyond them…And every morning, the regret and guilt would be there to greet him, forcing him to fight for composure before setting out and interacting with his family once more.

How long the memories haunted him was hard to determine. Eventually though, with both the comforting guidance of their sensei and the passage of time, he had learned to move through the difficult visions and continue with his life. He never told his brothers the whole story, nor did he ever really allow himself to forget what had happened that day, but he had at least managed to work through the trying time and find some solace again. Even the frequency of the nightmares waned away after a certain point.

That is…until Bishop's outbreak virus caused him to undergo his second mutation.

Truth to tell, Donatello couldn't exactly recall _all _the events that had taken place during his monstrous transformation. Still, even the miniscule things he _could_ remember were frightening enough. His vision had been tainted with a crimson haze, only occasionally broken long enough for him to see the remorseful gazes on the faces of his family and friends…or to see those same people he cared for desperately trying to fight him, to prevent him from doing what he knew he shouldn't have been. The sounds of his own feral snarls had drowned out most other noises, but familiar voices at times rang in his head, urgently calling out his name, pleading for him to stop.

But the truly horrible thing…the thing that had terrified him more than anything else…was the fierce rage and fury that had dictated his every action…the compelling need to attack and to fight without any reason why. And the fact that he had _felt_ it course within his mind, and yet there had been nothing in his power to keep him from acting on it. His mind…the one true strength that he possessed for his own…had not been able to help him against the vicious beast he had become that day.

Unable to control himself…left alone with what was left of himself as the predatory creature was free to reign and attack whoever dared stand against him…he had frantically held onto what was left of his identity and refused to give into the creature that was trying to take over him completely. He forced himself to remember who he truly was, struggled to remember the life he had led, to cling to whatever was left of him before.

But to remember _everything_…meant to also resurface old memories that he had spent so much time trying to overcome.

_Guess we really needed that level head of yours…_

Hearing those words again…hearing _Michelangelo's_ words again had brought back the same fears and doubts he had, with the strength he hadn't felt since his return from that world…that future. Even within the confines of his new savage form, he had worried…What good would he be to his family? If it was his mind that they needed the most of him, how could he help them?

And left alone with nothing but his own thoughts…thoughts that had begun to fade every moment the monster continued to exist, driving him out of his own head…a gripping fear had taken hold. It was the same dread that he had felt after learning of the consequences for his mysterious absence, the concern of seeing how broken his brothers had become. But the terror was far worse, because the nightmare was no longer limited to the future. Trapped in the body of a monster, unable to reach or be reached by them, he had been worried that the nightmare was finally coming to be.

He was truly afraid that he had failed his family…just as he had failed them before.

Even now, about a month after Leatherhead had managed to find a cure for Bishop's virus, Donatello could still recall the monster in the deepest corner of his mind. The creature was gone and never to return, he knew that, but the effects of what had happened continued to linger. Thinking of all the possible things he had done, all of the things he could have done…Even the understanding ear of his crocodilian friend did little to ease the torment that he continued to berate himself with, especially after convincing Leonardo and Leatherhead to explain everything they had gone through to get the cure for him in the first place.

Knowing of all the destruction that he had been capable of causing…of all the destruction that he _had_ caused…and all the while his family and friends went through all the trouble to save him…making a dangerous deal with the devil…That knowledge had truly scared him. Why had they been willing to do so much, to go so far to save him like that?

_When you never came back, Donnie…well, everything just…fell apart…_

He winced slightly as the words echoed in his head once more. He had never actually considered himself that important to the team – and honestly, there were times when he _still_ thought so – but just the idea that they had risked so much for him…and already seeing the possible outcome of what could happen if he was to suddenly vanish and disappear from their lives…The very notion was enough to haunt his dreams and keep him from recovering the way he needed to.

And so there he was, a month after they had returned from Bishop's headquarters and he had been restored to normal, yet still not fully recuperated because the nightmares would never allow him a single night's rest. The visions – either recollections of the broken future he had once visited, the lingering memories of his vicious transformation, or a disturbing mixture of both – constantly stormed his mind, and the only sanctuary for him was to prevent himself from sleeping as long as he could.

But he knew that he would nod off eventually, and when he did he would immediately be thrown back into the disorienting world of his dreams until he would be awakened by a member of his family.

He groaned softly, rubbing his temples firmly to dissipate the pressure that had started to collect there. As grateful as he was to his family, and as much as he cared for all of them, he was beginning to feel that they had become a little overprotective of him. He could understand their concern – if one of _them_ had nearly died, he surely would have acted the same way – but he was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable by it all. During the day, he could feel the constant gaze of his brothers or Master Splinter, watching over him to make sure nothing happened, or to be there in case he needed something. And he could feel their curiosity as they wondered why it seemed that he wasn't getting better. If only they knew about the nightmares…

'But what if it's not just the nightmares?' he found himself thinking suddenly. 'What if there's another reason that I'm not getting better? What if there's something else that's wrong?'

He frowned thoughtfully. That had not been the first time the thought crossed his mind. But he quickly shook his head. No, there couldn't be anything else wrong with him. After everything that he and his family had been through, hadn't that been enough for a while? No, he was just tired from not being able to sleep properly. Things would get better, given time, and he would eventually learn to overcome his fears as he had before, and things would be okay again.

Inhaling deeply, Donatello released it in a soft, shaky breath as he placed his hand on his plastron. That was what he wanted to believe…but for some reason the doubt continued to linger in the back of his mind. The strange, sinking feeling that something wasn't quite right…Was he just paranoid? Were his nightmares just getting the better of his sense of reasoning? Or maybe…was it really something else?

It wasn't often for him to wish that he was wrong. But in this particular case…as he played around with the idea that there was still something keeping him from getting better…he realized that nothing would make him happier.

_TBC_

That's a lot darker than some other stories I've ever written. Oh well.

As I've mentioned earlier, I've only seen a few episodes of this show. The note in the summary was meant to infer that, while this story doesn't exactly take place _immediately_ after "Good Genes" (which is what I usually mean with notes like that) and instead occurs much later on, it takes place after that episode in a time before the episode "Ninja Tribunal." In fact, that episode and everything that happened after it probably won't coincide with this story at all. But such is the way of a creative writer.

Anyway please review, and no flames if it can be helped. I really hope to continue, but I'm a bit stuck on something in the first chapter at the moment. With any luck, I'll get unstuck soon...and I won't die this semester. We shall see.


	2. Chapter 1

Wow! Thanks so much to the people who read and reviewed my story! I wasn't actually expecting that many. Again, thanks a bunch!

By nothing short of a miracle, I manged to get passed the area I was stuck in and continue with the story. But...well...maybe you should just read the chapter.

* * *

"Donatello," Splinter admonished, "do not lose your focus!"

The purple-clad turtle seemed not to heed the words as the twin sai aimed for him. The wooden bo came up to defend, but just barely due to the delayed reaction of its wielder. For a brief moment there was a standstill as the two forces pushed against each other, but it was only a matter of time before the stronger of the two pushed back the younger, causing Donatello to stagger back. He caught his balance just in time as Raphael charged at him with another attack.

As the wise rat continued to observe the match along with his two other sons, he was unable to prevent the thoughtful frown that crossed his features. The rather strange behavior exhibited by his intellectual son seemed to allude to the idea that something wasn't right and threatened to knock him off his feet with every attempt Raphael threw to best him.

In normal circumstances, though his ninjitsu skills were just behind that of the others, Donatello was perfectly capable of at least holding his own against his brothers during their training sessions. His mental abilities compensated for his physical limitations, allowing him to think quickly and keep up with his brothers in his own way.

But today Donatello seemed to be struggling greatly trying simply to protect himself from Raphael's rapid assault, let alone trying to instigate one of his own. And puzzling though it was, it was consistent with the sessions from the previous days following his son's recovery…or lack thereof.

Splinter was quite aware of the late nights that the adolescent spent forcing himself to stay awake instead of sleeping as he should have been. And with the exhausting effects it left with him, the ninja master couldn't understand why he continued to subject himself to the routine. He knew that something was bothering his charge – clearly indicated by the distraught expressions displayed on his features during the rare moments that he _did_ sleep – but Donatello seemed to prefer not to discuss the matter with them. Instead, he would sometimes seek Leatherhead's company and converse with him.

It pained him slightly to think his son wouldn't reveal the full extent of his problems with him. Still, he was satisfied that the reserved terrapin was confiding in someone else at least, and it was most beneficial that the crocodile could identify with him in a way that no one else could, no matter how they wanted to help him.

Yet even the talks with Leatherhead didn't appear to help in Donatello's healing, much to Splinter's disappointment. And in his mind, intervention would be needed if that circumstance failed to change, whether his son wished to accept it or not.

He was suddenly made aware that Donatello was once again driven back after just barely avoiding another of Raphael's constant attacks. As he focused once again on the match before him, a strange occurrence caught Splinter's attention.

As he once again managed to correct his balance after his brother's strike, the intelligent turtle's breath suddenly hitched softly as his body seemed to tense. Though the actions were minor, they were unable to escape the rat's sharp senses. At first he thought it was simply because his student's already-exhausted condition was finally beginning to catch up to him. However, the pained grimace on his son's face quickly alerted him otherwise.

Unfortunately, all this went unnoticed by his elder brother, and the hesitation was enough of an opportunity for Raphael to land a firm kick square against Don's plastron and send him flying a few feet back.

Leonardo and Michelangelo both winced slightly in sympathy as their brother hit the ground. They were all aware of the other's prolonged recovery and did their best to be careful when partnered with him not to work him too hard, while at the same time trying not to sacrifice the weight of the training. It was a difficult balance, though, and they often ended up choosing the former. So the two were a bit surprised by the result of the match, for they were fairly certain that Raph had been holding back this time as well.

As Splinter finally called an end to the session, the hothead slid his sai back into his belt. "Sorry, Don," he said as he glanced at the one he was speaking to. "I didn' think I hit ya that hard…"

"You did pretty well though, Don," Leo asserted.

"Yeah!" Mike replied. "You'll get 'im next time!"

Over the past month, the three had gotten into the habit of encouraging Donatello during and after their training, hoping their optimistic words would somehow aide their brother's recovery. It was a similar practice that the wise rat remembered occurring many years ago when the same young turtle was having difficulty mastering certain skills that his brothers had grasped so easily.

But the fact that his son had yet to rise from his position on the ground was a disheartening sign. Slowly taking a step forward, the ninja master then waited, wanting to see what would happen next. For a moment, he wondered if his young charge was simply resting after the strike. However, as his sensitive ears detected the faint groans of labored breathing, he quickly realized that this was not the case.

Ignoring the curious gazes of his other sons, he approached the turtle that lay on the ground and knelt beside him. His eyes immediately took in the pained expression set in the purple-masked features and the tautness of the near-motionless body. The olive hands – one resting on the plastron while the other still gripped the bo – tightly clenched and unclenched repeatedly. The partially-opened mouth struggled just to take in air, but the rapid, shallow rise and fall of the chest signified the minimal success.

As a small, anguished moan worked its way through his son's throat, the fatherly concern that welled within Splinter finally broke through. "Donatello!"

The simple exclamation was enough for the other three, and in a flash they had crossed the small distance to where their brother was lying. Michelangelo knelt down beside Splinter while Leonardo knelt at Donatello's other side, gently raising the other into a semi-sitting position and allowing his brother's head – now beaded with sweat – to rest against his forearm. Raphael, however, remained standing just behind the leader.

"Don?!" Leo said, trying to rouse the other awake again. "Don!"

"Donnie…? C'mon…" the youngest began. But he stopped, suddenly at a loss for words. Instead, he turned wondering eyes on their master and asked, "What happened?" The only response he received from their father figure was a solemn shake of the head, silently telling him that even the wise rat did not know.

Suddenly Donatello gave a sharp gasp, and Raph felt his own fists clench tightly as he watched his younger brother. "Shell…" he muttered, and finally compelled himself to move beside Leo. Bending down, he carefully lifted him out of Leo's grasp and draped the tense arm over his shoulders, easily supporting the smaller turtle's weight. He had every intention of taking Don back to his room, and as the other three rose to their feet he knew they had every intention of following him.

He barely managed to take a step, however, when another low moan was heard followed by the clatter of the wooden staff as it fell against the stone ground. The hand, now freed of the weapon, reached up to the clammy forehead as the eyes behind the violet bandana slowly fluttered open.

Still a bit dazed and a little confused, Donatello glanced about. "Ugh…huh…?" he mumbled. "What…?"

"Don!" Leonardo exclaimed. "Are you okay?"

Looking at him with weary perplexity, the soft-spoken turtle nodded slightly. "Yeah…I-I think so…" Regaining some of his strength, he slowly pulled himself away from Raph, who hesitantly allowed him to do so.

Once he was certain that his brother was stable on his feet, the red-masked ninja then said, "Sorry, Donnie. I didn't think…"

"No, it wasn't your fault, Raph." Donatello sighed softly. "I was…just tired, that's all. I'm fine now, though."

The memory of the pained expression his son had worn just moments ago left Splinter feeling unconvinced, and he could clearly see that the other three would agree with him. "Are you sure that you're all right, my son?"

"Yes, Master Splinter. I'm okay now…Really."

He continued to regard his intelligent son with doubtful eyes, knowing that there was something that the other was withholding. Briefly turning his attention to his eldest, he stated, "I would like the three of you to practice some katas for the time being." Then he returned his gaze to his second youngest. "Come with me, Donatello."

The four exchanged puzzled expressions as their sensei began to head out of the dojo. Then, after reaching down and grabbing his bo off the floor, Don hurried after him.

Splinter led the adolescent through the main lair, stopping only when he had reached the door that led to his room. He then turned slightly and waited for Donatello to enter first. The turtle seemed to hesitate for a moment, glancing from him to the door. Finally, with a soft sigh the young inventor stepped inside, and the wise rat followed closely after.

After the door slowly closed behind them, the student rested his wooden staff against the wall while the master seated himself in his meditation area on the floor. After lingering for a moment by the wall, the terrapin reluctantly sat before him though appeared to do his best to avoid looking into the inquiring eyes. Keeping his head lowered, he focused on the ground instead.

It was that simple action that suggested to Splinter that words would simply be wasted unless the precise ones were spoken. He would have to get right to the point. "My son, I am concerned for you," he said softly.

Slowly Donatello glanced up at the father before quickly averting his gaze again, unsure of how to answer.

"I am aware," he continued, "that your healing…is not progressing as quickly as we have hoped."

The turtle continued to look away from him, but he had already seen the slight wince that flitted through his son's face. Reaching over, he placed a gentle paw on distracted olive hands. Surprised, Donatello finally lifted his head to fully meet his father's eyes.

"Donatello," Splinter whispered, "I know that there is something that troubles you, and I only wish to help you. But there is nothing I can do if you do not wish to speak of it to me."

For a minute longer, the reserved one continued to hold the rat's look. Then, as he looked away once more, he finally responded, "There…isn't really anything anyone can do. I've just…I've been having some trouble sleeping, that's all."

Splinter continued to watch him, hesitantly pulling his paw away. "Is it that you are having trouble sleeping? Or is it simply that you do not allow yourself to sleep?"

"Well…" He rubbed the back of his head. "Both, actually. I…The only reason I try to stay awake so long is because…even if I do fall asleep, I don't actually get any _rest_."

The distinction was clear, but it was still a puzzling remark. Thinking for a moment, Donatello then began to explain. "See…even if I do end up falling asleep…I just keep getting these nightmares, and…" He paused, tentative to continue.

But the few words he had already spoken were enough. The wise rat sighed softly, memories of the last time nightmares plagued his son's sleep entering his mind. "What sorts of nightmares, my son?"

"Um…well…" he flustered, fiddling with the tails of his bandana. "I…sometimes remember little bits and pieces…of what happened when I had undergone the second transformation. And from what Leo and Leatherhead have told me, I guess my imagination got the better of me and decided to try filling in the blanks."

There was more than that, Splinter knew. Yet he decided not to delve into it. His son was no longer a child, and he would not press him into speaking if he did not wish to. Unfortunately, he also knew that the other had spoken the truth earlier. No matter what assistance he provided, or wished to provide, the haunting dreams could not be driven away by anyone other than Donatello himself.

"Donatello," he began softly, "you must not allow yourself to dwell on those events."

The turtle glanced up at him, the shame clearly defined in his expression. "I…I know," he admitted. "I just can't help it. After everything I did…"

"You are _not_ to blame for the events that happened," Splinter insisted. "No one holds you accountable, and you should not either. It is not your fault."

Staring at him for a lingering moment, Donatello then looked back down at his hands. And the master knew that his words were not readily believed. He knew it would take some time before the teen would heed his words again, and even longer before his words would be taken to heart. For now, that was all he could grant.

But in the farthest corners of his mind, he found himself strangely wondering if his son could honestly afford that luxury. After all, the incident in the dojo had already shown how the turtle was handling himself after a month.

Still, he trusted Donatello. He believed that his intelligent son would find a way to overcome the problems he was facing, just as he had once before. If only there was more he could do to help.

The silence continued to pass between them until Splinter finally cleared his throat. "Perhaps it would be wise for you to return to your room and try to rest now, my son," he stated.

The violet-masked eyes glanced about as he seemed to debate his options. Finally he answered, "No, it's okay, Master Splinter. I can keep training with the others, honest."

A curious brow was raised. For as long as he had been teaching the four turtles, Donatello had always shown the most reluctance to learn the ways of ninjitsu. His interests rested within the realm of science and learning through reading, often leaving the physical training on the second spot on his list of priorities. All his practice and skills were acquired due more to necessity than of genuine desire.

There had been, however, one time he could recall when the peaceful ninja obtained a sudden determination to practice ninjitsu…after he had returned from a broken future where he had blamed himself for the death of those he held so dear. His sudden dedication to his training was meant to prove something, but what that was the master did not know. The fierce commitment was only temporary, though, lasting only for as long as the worst of his nightmares plagued his slumber. As the pain slowly eased, so too did the need to train.

Except now, it appeared that Donatello was repeating the behavior. That alone was enough to worry Splinter. With a deep frown set on his muzzle, the rat slowly shook his head. "No," he said firmly. "The best thing for you to do now is to try and get some rest."

The turtle finally looked up at him. "But Master Splinter…" he began to protest.

"Do not argue with me, Donatello. What occurred in the dojo confirmed that you are not in the proper condition to continue. We will wait and see how you are feeling tomorrow."

The student sighed softly, detecting the unyielding tone in his master's voice. There would be no changing the decision. "Yes, Sensei," he finally answered.

Gaze softening, Splinter then gave the other a small nod to dismiss him. Slowly rising to his feet, Donatello then bowed to his master before taking his bo and making his way out of the room.

As his son disappeared beyond the doorway, he couldn't prevent the sigh that escaped him. The apprehension he felt toward the reserved turtle had yet to dissipate from his heart. But like the visions that disturbed Donatello's dreams, he knew that it would not be dealt with so easily.

* * *

"Is Donnie gonna be okay?" Michelangelo suddenly asked, finally pulling his head out of the refrigerator. "He hasn't come outta his room for a really long time…"

It was the first time their brother had been mentioned since he and Master Splinter had left the dojo earlier that morning. Upon his return, the rat had informed them that Donatello would be resting for the day, and that they were not to disturb him. It had been a suitable explanation for the rest of them, and they had decided not to press the matter further.

But they had all been curious of the strange event that occurred that morning, and the concern surrounding their brainy brother still remained. The youngest of them simply asked the question that hung in all of their minds.

Leonardo didn't have a valid answer for the question. All he had were the words that their teacher had given them earlier. "He just needs to rest for a while, Mikey. And we aren't to disturb him."

"Yeah, but he's been sleepin' all day. That can't really be good for him, can it? He needs to eat somethin' too. I mean, it's almost time for dinner!"

Leo rolled his eyes slightly, knowing that part of the other's tone was geared towards his own empty stomach. Before he had a chance to respond, however, he was stopped short by another voice. "In this case, you are right, Michelangelo. It would be for the best if your brother had some nourishment in his body." Master Splinter slowly approached them, his wooden cane gently tapping the ground alongside his footsteps.

"Sorry, I think I heard wrong," Raphael said suddenly. "I mean, you couldn' have said that Mikey was _right_ 'bout somethin'."

"Hey!" the orange-clad ninja protested.

The rat paid little heed to them as he turned to his eldest son. "Leonardo, please wake Donatello and ask him to come eat something," he instructed.

"Sure, Sensei." He turned slightly, glad to be leaving as his younger brothers engaged in an unnecessary and somewhat silly mock fight. Though he was unable to stop the grin that spread on his face when the sound of wood against skull echoed around the lair.

Making his way to Don's room, he gently knocked on the closed door just in case. "Donnie?" he said softly, testing to see if his brother wasn't already up and about. Silence was all that answered him, inviting him inside. Taking hold of the doorknob, he turned it and slowly opened the door.

At first, nothing seemed too out of the ordinary. As far as he could see, the room was as tidy as ever minus the table where an assortment of electronics waited to be examined. They were few, however, since most of the major projects resided at Don's workstation out in the main lair. Though he wondered what his brother planned to do with the smaller pieces of equipment, it seemed fitting all the same that they were there. Everything in the room appeared to be where it was supposed to be.

The bed sheet, however, was the exception. As half the sheet lazily hung off the edge of the bed, the other half was twisted between Donatello's legs, entangling them together as he tossed and turned in a fitful sleep. Quick, short breaths escaped from his mouth as olive hands gripped whatever was underneath them, and the same pained expression from earlier that morning had returned.

"W-wait, please…" he could hear his brother mutter softly. "No…no…! I-I…I'm sorry…Don't…!"

Alarm overcoming him, Leo rushed to his brother's bed, gripping the carapace and gently trying to wake him. "Don!" he said. "Donnie, wake up!"

"No!" the younger turtle cried out. "I-I didn't…I'm sorry…! Please…!"

"Donatello!"

With a jump, Donatello suddenly pushed himself up; sitting in his bed as he wildly looked about. As his eyes took in the sight of his anxious elder brother, his mind finally seemed to gain back his bearings and realized with minor relief that he was in his room. Then with a shuddering sigh, he pulled his knees up and pressed his forehead against them, not even bothering with the blanket still wrapped about his legs.

The leader hesitated for a moment. "Don…?"

"Give me a minute," the other pleaded hoarsely, his voice wavering slightly as he spoke. "Just a minute…"

And so Leonardo waited, listening as his brother inhaled deeply and slowly released them in drawn-out sighs. It reminded him of the breathing meditation exercises that Master Splinter would have them perform in order to clear their troubled minds, and he strongly suspected that that was certainly what Don was trying to do.

He frowned as he watched the inventor regain his composure. It hadn't been the first time in the past month that he had to wake Donnie from a nightmare; it was beginning to become something that all of them had to do. What really bothered him were the things that Don had been saying in his sleep. For all their lives, he had never known his quiet younger brother to talk in his sleep before. And the words that left his mouth…it all seemed a little unnerving.

Movement jarred Leonardo out of his thoughts, and he watched as Donatello slowly raised his head, pressing the palms of his hands to his eyes and releasing one last sigh before finally looking up at him.

The question was pressed in his mind, and he couldn't help but ask it. "You okay, Donnie?"

"Yeah," the purple-masked turtle replied quickly. "I'm fine."

Leo's frown deepened. Though his brother did look more relaxed than just a few minutes ago, he couldn't help but wonder how much of it was genuine. Of all of them, Donatello was the most reserved and therefore more capable of keeping things to himself. Sometimes, he just couldn't tell what the other was thinking.

Carefully he sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes fixed on his younger brother. "What were you dreaming about?"

Don's body stiffened slightly. "Nothing…" he answered softly, breaking his gaze from Leo's.

"C'mon, Donnie. You've been having these nightmares for a long time now. It might help if you talk about them."

Olive hands wound around the corner of the sheets. "I…talk to Leatherhead about them…"

And though he was already aware of that fact, for some reason the confession still stung him. "So…you can talk about what's bothering you to Leatherhead…but not to any of us?"

A flinch briefly disrupted the stolid expression. "Don't…don't take it that way, Leo. Leatherhead…He just understands better, that's all."

'Understands what?' the leader found himself wondering. He was almost inclined to voice the question until a strange recollection abruptly played in his mind, providing the answer he needed.

_I can sympathize. I know what it's like…to be a monster._

He couldn't keep his eyes from widening. "You've…you've been dreaming about _that_?"

Without looking at his brother, Donatello nodded slightly.

"Do…do you…" The blue-clad ninja had to swallow hard before his voice allowed him to continue. "Do you…remember what happened?"

With a soft sigh, he decided to take a chance. "Well, not everything," he disclosed, barely above a whisper. "It's mostly just some little things. But…there _are_ two things that I remember more clearly."

"Really?" Curiosity was getting the better of Leonardo now. "What are they?"

"I…" Don paused, closing his eyes as he searched for the right words. "At one point, I remember hearing Master Splinter's voice…calling to me. I wasn't…able to hear everything he said, but…just hearing his voice, being able to focus on it…"

The older turtle nodded in understanding. It wasn't surprising that that was one of the events that the other would remember considering they had all been trying so hard to get through to him that day. Master Splinter had been the only one who managed to calm him, even if only for that one time. Hesitating slightly, he then asked, "What else do you remember?"

Slowly, Donatello raised his head to look up at his brother. "I…remember you…with the tranquilizer gun…"

It was his turn to cringe, and regretfully turned his focus away. Why did his brother have to remember _that_, of all things? Something that he himself wanted so much to forget, but knew he couldn't. Having to use one of Don's own inventions against him, to subdue him so Bishop and Stockman could get their hands on him…even if it was to help him, he still hated himself more for every dart that had punctured his brother's skin.

Vaguely, he was aware that Don was speaking again. "I guess the first tranquilizer dart managed to settle me down a little bit. Even though it still hadn't been able to help me control myself, the sedative cleared enough of my mind for me to become more aware of what was happening around me…at least until the others started to kick in."

He felt the sudden need to defend himself. "I'm sorry, Don, I was just…"

"It's okay, Leo," the soft-spoken one assured. "Like you said, it was for my own good, right? Besides…I'm kind of glad you used it on me."

The confusion he felt made its way to the surface. "You are?"

"Yeah." A faint sigh escaped Don's beak. "I…the monster…It was always so angry and vicious…Always ready to attack, no matter who got in its way. Not being able to control any of that rage was really… terrifying. If you hadn't used the tranquilizer gun on me…" He shut his eyes tightly. "I hate to think what would have happened…"

Leonardo felt his heart break for his brother. 'It shouldn't have been Donnie,' was the thought that immediately passed through his mind. In all truth, no one should have been infected with that blasted virus. But Donatello – the most peaceful one among them who hardly ever became upset over anything – was the last one to deserve that horrible experience. He was the last one who deserved to turn into such a thoughtless, feral monster.

Shaking himself out of his own trance, the leader said as soothingly as he could muster, "Don…everything's okay now. What happened…it's all in the past. You're cured, and back…and everything's gonna be okay. We know what happened isn't your fault, so don't worry about it."

As much as he truly meant the words, the look on his brother's face clearly told him that he wasn't convincing enough. The brainy one was thinking, debating, seeking the right words to properly express some kind of argument to his statements.

But to his surprise, Donatello simply offered him a small smile. "Yeah, I guess you're right," he finally responded.

It was one of those numerous moments where Leo wasn't sure what was going through the other's mind. He was uncertain whether Don was truly listening to him or just wanted to drop the topic. Still, despite his confusion, seeing the smile on his brother's face was enough to prompt a smile of his own.

Slowly he rose to his feet. If Don wanted to change the subject, he would change the subject. "Come on," he said softly. "We should probably get you something to eat."

The look Donatello gave him indicated that he wasn't all that hungry. But rather than a refusal, the inventor instead gave a curt nod. As he began to get up, however, he finally noticed the tangled mess that had ensnared his legs. Carefully he began to untie himself.

With a slight amount of amusement, Leo reached over and began to help his brother unravel the sheets. But as he did so, he felt a strange warmth that seemed to radiate from the other's body. It was mild…but still too warm to be natural. He had to make sure.

Finally freed, Donatello slid off the bed and stood. When he did, Leonardo lifted an unsteady hand to feel his brother's forehead. And though it was quickly pushed away, the brief contact was enough to make the confirmation.

"Don, you…" For some reason, his throat was trying to close up. "You've got a fever…"

"Do I?" came the low response. But his tone informed Leo that he was already aware.

It was a very subtle fever, and in most cases nothing serious to worry about. Yet he couldn't settle the wave of anxiety that was threatening to drown out all other thoughts. Because, as he stared at his younger brother, all he could hear was the voice that repeatedly whispered in his mind.

_Do you remember what happened the last time Donnie was sick?_

_That_ was more than enough to worry him. "Donnie, maybe you'd better –"

"Please don't make a big deal about it, Leo," the younger one begged. "I haven't been sleeping well lately, that's all. The lack of sleep has put some distress on my immune system, so I caught a _little_ fever. But it's _nothing_, I promise."

It did make some sense. The inventor had been staying up much later than normal, and that was certainly going to affect his health in some way. But still…

_Do you remember what happened the last time Donnie was sick?_

"Leo, I'm okay," Don's voice tried again to reassure. "Really, it's nothing." Grabbing his wrist, he quickly added, "Come on, let's go. I'm getting hungry." And with little choice, Leonardo followed his brother towards the kitchen.

When they arrived, Raphael and Michelangelo had already found food for themselves and pretended not to notice the other two. Master Splinter stood nearby and seemed to have been waiting for them.

"How are you feeling, my son?" the rat asked softly as they approached.

"A little better, I guess," the purple-masked ninja answered shortly.

But Leo wasn't going to let his brother get away with that. "He's running a fever, Sensei…"

Raph and Mike's heads shot up, staring at them with wide eyes, and even Splinter seemed a little startled by the revelation. The memory of the last time Don was sick was also still fresh in their minds, even after a month's passing and the virus cured. To hear that he was sick _again_ was not only unexpected but also enough of a reason for concern.

Shooting a quick glare at his older brother, Donatello then turned back to their teacher. "It's _nothing_," he emphasized. "It's just a little fever, and it's really nothing to worry about."

"That's what you said before…" Mikey pointed out.

"I'm tired, that's all. I haven't been sleeping well, so I got sick. It was really inevitable, but I'll be fine in a few days or so."

Still doubtful, the other three turtles turned their eyes to Master Splinter for his opinion. A single claw gently grazed the surface of his walking stick as he carefully considered all that had been said. After several minutes, he finally spoke. "Whatever the circumstances of your illness, you must take care to ensure that it does not worsen. If it is rest that is required to help you recuperate, then you will rest. Is that understood?"

With hesitant resignation, the intelligent turtle gave a small nod. "Yes, Sensei."

Splinter returned the nod and then began instructing him further of steps to take in order to keep the fever down, which included the intake of food. But Leo had ceased to listen at that point, instead glancing over at his other two brothers, who returned his gaze with the same worry as he felt. As their focus returned to their brainy brother, he wondered if the same thought had entered their minds as it had his.

_Do you remember what happened the last time Donnie was sick?_

Beneath the blue mask, his eyes eased shut as a muted sigh escaped him.

_The last time he was sick…you almost lost him for good._

_TBC_

Personally, I think this chapter was crap. I don't know why, I just remember hating it as I was typing it up. I think it's because I was mostly just rushing through this chapter in order to get it over with, and I kept getting stuck on certain parts and so began to rush more...and it's just bad. I did like the last line though...because I'm evil.

But since I finished this chapter, it means I'll soon be able to work on the next one. That's one I'm kind of looking forward to. Unfortunately, it might be a while before I get a chance to write it. Not only do I have (at least) two other stories that need to be written and updated, but work in my classes is starting to pile up. However, I do promise to get chapter two up as soon as I can.

So please read and review, let me know what you think, and no flames if it can be helped. Catch ya next time!


	3. Chapter 2

I wasn't actually planning to post this week. However, since I finished the chapter, I figured that I might as well. I'm a little surprised at how much easier this chapter was to write than the previous chapter was. I knew it would be easier, but I didn't think it'd be _this _easy. Admittedly, I did hit a snag here or there, but it was nowhere near as bad as the first chapter. I suppose it's because I really wanted to address one of the central ideas of the story before someone else does it (I really do hope that no one else has done something like this...).

Anyway, here it is. Hopefully everything will make some sense as you read it. The main idea behind this chapter is what I'm really worried about, and I'll try to explain it at the end for any of those who are still confused. But anyway, happy reading!

* * *

The sound of metallic clatter caught his attention, and Michelangelo glanced towards his brother's workstation in time to see Donatello zip his duffle bag closed. Slinging the strap of the bag over his shoulder, the purple-masked turtle then carefully eased the bag off the table before checking over the desk and grabbing a nearby notebook. With a sigh, he opened the bag and slid the notebook in, mindful of the small device that the jokester could only get a small glimpse of.

Curiosity peaked at this point, Mikey sat up from his position on the couch. "Whatcha doin', Donnie?" he asked.

The inventor looked over at his younger brother as he closed his bag once more. "Nothing," he replied hastily.

The tone that was used vaguely reminded him of every time he was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing. Leaping over the couch, he headed over to where the other stood, taking note of the bag that hung at his side. "Ya goin' somewhere?"

Olive hands began to fiddle with the strap that rested against the plastron. "Well…I thought I'd go and see Leatherhead today."

"Oh…" was the hesitant reply. Like everyone else, Mike was aware of the occasional times when Don went to talk with their crocodile friend. It was only recently, however, that he learned from Leonardo exactly what the two talked about. That his brother needed to go talk with Leatherhead now, and given the situation of the past few days…he would admit that he was a bit concerned for his brainy brother. "Are…you sure you should be going now? I mean…"

"I'm feeling a lot better today, actually," the intelligent terrapin asserted, understanding where the unease stemmed from. "I already checked with Master Splinter, and he said it would be all right for me to go."

That calmed him down a bit. After all, Master Splinter wouldn't let Donnie go if he thought that it was a bad idea. The wise rat would only allow Don to leave if he felt that he was no longer ill, or at least not as ill as he had been before. And even then their sensei would be the one to make sure that he was well enough before giving the go-ahead. If Splinter said it was okay, then Don was more than likely not too sick anymore. But still…

"Well, uh…do you want me to go with you?"

"What?" Donatello seemed a little startled by the question. "You want to come with me?"

"I mean, just to go with ya and make sure you get there okay," he quickly amended. "Just in case you…oh, um…" Biting his tongue, the orange-clad ninja tried to think of something else to say. They had all been careful not to bring up the incident that took place days before, when Don had collapsed in the dojo and first came down with a fever to begin with. Yet even as the fever slowly faded, they were all afraid that it would happen again, and so had kept a closer eye on him. He had been surprised at first that Splinter hadn't asked anyone to accompany Don to Leatherhead's, but hearing the tone his brother used quickly told him why. And while he tried to think of a good excuse to give in order go along and make sure his brother would be all right, his brain just couldn't think of one.

It didn't seem to matter, though, as the smart one already appeared to have pick up on the hint. "Don't worry, Mikey. It's no big deal. I've been to Leatherhead's plenty of times on my own. I'll be okay…really."

He didn't bother to hide the uncertainty in his expression. Don had a bad habit of disregarding his own health, stubbornly pushing himself and insisting that he was all right so that others wouldn't worry about him. He wondered if his brother, for all the intellect that he had, would ever realize pretending he was okay never worked, for they could usually see right through him. Don had never been a good liar.

But this time, he really did seem better. And Master Splinter had already given him permission. So maybe he didn't have to worry _too_ much. "Well…okay," he finally accepted. "What time do you think you're gonna be back?"

Donnie shrugged a little. "I'm not sure, really. Probably some time tonight."

"Whoa! That long?" The reason for his surprise was probably due to the fact that it was only mid-morning. "I mean, I know you've got problems to talk about, but you've never stayed _that _long before."

"What? Oh. Well, yeah…" The inventor hesitated for a moment, scratching the side of his head. "I mean, I was going to talk to Leatherhead about _that_, but I was also going to show him a project that I've been working on." Carefully he patted the bag that hung at his side. "Maybe it's because I haven't gotten too much sleep lately, followed by the fever, but for some reason I haven't been able to get it working properly, so I thought I'd discuss it with Leatherhead and see if he could help me out with it."

"Oh. That makes sense…I guess." When Don normally had trouble with the specifics of a new gadget, the first person he would go to was April ('Probably because no one else can ever understand what he's talking about,' Mike thought with a little laugh to himself). But then again, Leatherhead would probably be able to help as well, plus it would save some time since Don was already heading over there anyway. And if all the techno babble between him and April gave any indication, then Don returning that evening seemed _much_ too early.

"So…_what _time will you be back?"

He couldn't hide the cheeky grin as he detected the exasperated look on his older brother's face. "Hey, I'm just makin' sure, Bro!" he retorted, holding his hands up in defense. "It couldn't hurt to be careful, right?" But though he held the playful tone, some of the genuine concern worked its way into his words.

With a small sigh, Don then gave him a weary smile. "I'll try to be back early tonight. If we go too late, I'll call and let you know. Is that okay with you, Mikey?"

"Weeeeell…" Crossing his arms over his plastron, the fun-loving ninja pretended to consider the proposal. "I guess so. But just remember that if you stay out too late, I won't be able to stop Leo or Raph from going over there and dragging you back…call or not."

The quiet turtle laughed softly. "I'll try to keep that in mind. Anyway, I'll see you later."

Michelangelo nodded slightly. "Yeah, see ya," he replied as the inventor headed off. Then as he rubbed the back of his neck, he slowly made his way back to the couch.

'Donnie's gonna be fine,' he told himself as he sat back down. 'His fever's gone down, and Master Splinter let him go. Besides, he'll be with Leatherhead, and he'll be working on one of his projects like he always does, so he'll be okay. There's nothin' to worry about.'

But Donnie still wasn't a very good liar. And he knew there was another reason why his reserved brother was going to see the crocodile. He just didn't know what that reason was…yet.

* * *

The faint beeping of the computer quickly alerted him, calling for his attention. But as he studied the data that was presented to him, Leatherhead's eyes drastically widened. "Oh no…" he whispered.

Still, no matter how soft the words were spoken, Donatello's trained senses easily caught them from the nearby table he had been working at and resting. He lifted his head from the cushion of his arms, any drowsiness he had been feeling just moments before rapidly vanishing. "What is it, Leatherhead?" he asked, trying to suppress the almost eager tone in his voice.

The crocodile, either not hearing his inquiry or choosing to ignore it, did not answer and instead quickly began entering brisk commands on the keys. The purple-masked ninja frowned in mild frustration, desperately wanting to learn the results of the tests that they had been running for most of the day.

After arriving at Leatherhead's place, Donatello had been reluctant to explain the real reason for his visit. He briefly described the incident that occurred during training days beforehand when he had collapsed and caught a fever soon afterwards. He then confessed that, while the fever had subsided, a minor burning pain had developed in his chest. Unsure of how to explain it, and unwilling to inform his already-worried family, he had headed to see their crocodilian friend in hopes of finding a cause for what has been happening to him.

They had been performing analyses for a good portion of the day, hoping to find anything that would tell them what was happening. Day had started its shift into night – it was almost time for him to either head home or call and notify his family that he would be late – and the examinations had been a somewhat tiring experiencing. He had been on the verge of sleep until he overheard the other's quiet remark, which he presumed meant that the tests yielded some results, albeit grave ones.

Except Leatherhead had yet to enlighten him of those findings. With a twinge of impatience, Don rose from his seat and walked over to where his companion was sitting. "Leatherhead, what is it?' he repeated.

Reluctantly the larger reptile looked towards him, his eyes holding what the turtle could only identify as remorse. "Donatello…" the other began softly, seeming to search for the right words, "I…I believe I owe you a…tremendous apology."

"Apology?" The perplexity in his voice was difficult to miss. "What for?"

"I…It seems I have made a grievous error…regarding Bishop's outbreak virus."

Though the confusion never faded, it was quickly hidden beneath the somber expression that crossed his features. "Is it that bad?" he wondered.

"Worse than anything we had originally considered." Wearily rubbing his eyes, Leatherhead then looked at Don once more. "Do you recall the reason why your brother had so readily agreed to work with Bishop in order to get the antidote?"

With a flinch, the turtle focused his gaze on the floor. The story Leo had told him quickly flooded his memory, his brother's voice clearly resounding through his mind and describing everything they had gone through to get that antidote…everything that happened because of _him_. "He…Leo said that he had to agree to help Bishop because…the virus was causing my body to break down due to a negative reaction with the Utrom mutagen in my blood. He said he had to do it…because otherwise I wouldn't have survived."

Nodding gravely, the crocodile then directed his attention to the computer screen.

After much persistence on his part, Don had convinced his blue-masked brother to tell him that part of the story first; where Leo, Raph, and Mikey had come back to New York City to obtain the object from Karai while Leatherhead and Master Splinter had stayed behind at Bishop's base. And it was with that same diligence he had persuaded his fellow scientist to recount the second half some time later. That was when he had learned a piece of fact that, for as far as he knew, his brothers were still unaware of.

"Do you also recall what I had told you?" he heard his associate ask suddenly.

Donatello nodded slightly, though once again wondered about the results of the tests. "You mentioned that, after my brothers left, Stockman told you and Master Splinter that there hadn't been a cure."

"Yes. Bishop had deceived them so they would acquire the item for him."

"But you found the cure anyway, didn't you?" the passive ninja inquired, attempting to understand where his friend was trying to go with this. "I mean, you were able to finish what Stockman had already been working on and create a viable cure."

Leatherhead sighed heavily. "That is true. Based on what Stockman had already tested and accomplished, I was able to help produce the solution that would treat the outbreak virus." Turning to address Don completely, he added softly, "But in your case…simply eliminating the _cause_ did not undo the _reaction_ it created."

His mind turned the words over for a brief moment before their meaning became clear, and his eyes widened as he stared at the croc. "So you're saying…that my body is still damaged from the virus?"

"The damage that your body sustained was a result of both Bishop's virus _and _the Utrom mutagen. When the outbreak strain was exposed to the mutagen, it began to break down the cellular structure of your previously mutated body. Merely removing the virus did nothing to repair that deterioration to your system, since it was a reaction to the very substance that makes you what you are now, and that is where the destruction remained. The subject that Stockman was testing on was only inflicted with the virus, and the results we had been looking for only meant to cure _that_…not anything else…"

"Not even the harm that it caused in a being whose form had already been altered…" the turtle finished softly. "And since the Utrom mutagen will always be in my blood, the affliction induced by the virus will remain as well…"

"Unfortunately…yes…"

The teen rubbed his chin thoughtfully, reflecting over the concept as carefully as he could while a laden silence settled over them. "Well," he finally said after several minutes, "that _does _explain why I haven't been recovering at all."

He caught the strange look that the crocodile was giving him, and in truth he himself couldn't explain the unexpected calm that he was using to speak with. He was used to keeping things to himself, that was true, but at the moment there was nothing within to conceal from the other. He understood everything that had been said, and he had been surprised at first. But now…he felt nothing.

Leatherhead, however, interpreted the turtle's response in a different manner. "I should have realized from the beginning that this would happen. I was already aware of what was happening to you, but I never made the effort to monitor your health after the virus had been cured. Perhaps if I had…"

"Don't worry about it, Leatherhead," Donatello interjected, giving the other a reassuring smile. "None of this is your fault. Like you said, you were just going off of what Stockman had already done, and he had started testing on someone just affected by the outbreak virus. The fact that I had already been mutated beforehand made me a unique case, and there was no way to mind my condition while worrying about the virus as a whole. At least with the cure you came up with, you helped save me _and_ the entire city."

His mind rapidly evaluated the issue he was now presented with, considering the weight of this situation. "Even if the damage is permanent, I'm sure I'll learn to deal with it. And yeah, I guess it'll make things a _little_ bit harder for me since I already had a difficult time keeping up with my brothers before…but I really think I can manage. I'll probably just have to be a little more careful, and –"

"Donatello," the crocodile interrupted suddenly. "I'm afraid…that there is more to the matter than that…"

The ninja stopped short, whatever optimism he held dangerously wavering. "What do you mean?"

The larger reptile hesitated, gathering the words to precisely convey the circumstances. "After…the body sustains an injury, there are two things that commonly take place; the body can either begin to heal itself, or – depending on the severity of the injury – the damage can continue to deteriorate the body…"

Immediately, the intelligent terrapin knew that he didn't like where the conversation was heading. "Right…"

"In this case…in _your _case, the damage you had endured because of the virus…had advanced very rapidly throughout your entire system. Without the proper treatment, your body has continued…to…" Unable to continue, Leatherhead's voice trailed off into silence.

But the words didn't need to be said, for his friend's tone spoke volumes, perfectly projecting exactly what he meant. Shutting his eyes tightly, Donatello quickly processed the entire significance of the position he was in. Even with the virus eradicated from his system, the damage it had imposed on him remained within his Utrom-mutated body. And because it was so far along, there hadn't been enough of his system's natural resources in order to even attempt to heal it all. Instead, the damage was continuing to deteriorate his internal structure.

And he remembered hearing from the crocodile that the antidote to the virus had been administered to him just in time, for the damage had been critical, almost fatal. If his body was continuing to decline, then that could only mean…

Inhaling deeply, he did his best to control his trembling voice as he asked in a bare whisper, "How long?"

He understood what the other was asking, but Leatherhead was uncertain if he could give a direct answer. "It is difficult to say," he managed to reply. "Unlike when you had been infected by the virus, the affliction is progressing at a much more gradual, even slightly sporadic rate. There is no way to accurately predict –"

"How _long_, Leatherhead?" Donatello insisted, not to be taken by the delaying method the other was trying to impose. He knew that the crocodile already had a fair idea to answer his question.

Gazing at the ninja desolately, Leatherhead then sighed. "Given the extent of the degeneration your body had already sustained during your second transformation, plus the additional month afterwards when your system began to weaken on its own…even with the reduced speed of the process it is undertaking, I would estimate that there is only…six months left."

A sudden numbness overtook his body, and he barely registered the crocodile standing and easing the chair underneath him. As he was heavily seated, the computer screen came into his line of vision, and it took everything he had to focus on the information that was there. But it didn't matter if he read any of it or not, for he already knew that the other reptile was telling him the truth.

"Donatello…" Somehow his companion's soft words broke through the turmoil his mind was creating. "Remember, that is only an approximation. The atrophy is rather infrequent, causing obscurities if we wished to calculate an exact time frame. It could possibly take more time than that…"

"Or _less_," the teen retorted. He had intended the statement to be purely logic-based, but somehow the bitterness forced its way into his tone. Then it quickly gave way to distress as he rested his forehead in the palm of his hand. "How can this be happening…? Why…?" When words would no longer come to his tense mind, he heaved a sigh and shut his eyes, struggling with no success to sort through the chaotic thoughts that stormed him.

Leatherhead stood silently, wishing to comfort the other somehow but knowing that nothing he said would alleviate the situation. What way was there to console a friend who barely a moment ago learned he had a limited time left to live?

Opening his eyes just slightly, Donatello quickly scanned through the data that was still displayed on the computer screen. It seemed to mock him relentlessly, providing the very information that he had wanted to know and spent all day trying to uncover. Only now that he knew, he regretted it completely and wished that he had never even bothered.

Still, some rationale remained, insisting that it was better that he learned of all this now rather than be taken by surprise later. But what now? How was he going to cope with this kind of knowledge? Could he handle it, knowing that he didn't have much time left? Six months would pass in a flash. Now that he was aware, how was he going to contend with his remaining time?

What…what would his family say?

_How the_ _shell could you just _abandon_ us like that?!_

His eyes shot wide open when the memory echoed through his mind. 'No…no!' he thought frantically. 'I…I would _never_ do that to them! I would never leave them if I could help it! I never meant for any of this to happen! This…this can't be my fault…!'

Except he knew that it was. No matter how often Master Splinter or his brothers tried to convince him otherwise, he always knew that it had been all his fault for being contaminated with the virus in the first place. And now, not only would _he_ pay for his mistake, but so would everyone around him.

But he still never meant for any of this to happen. It was never his intention to make them undergo this kind of experience, and he certainly didn't _want_ any of it to happen. If he truly were to die, could his family honestly accuse him of abandoning them?

Perhaps they could…if he simply gave up on it.

What if…what if there was a way to prevent all of this from happening? If he could just find a way to undo all the deterioration that his body had sustained, then there could be a chance for his survival. It was a long shot, though. After all, his body had suffered an extensive amount of damage, and it had nearly killed him a first time. As time passed, it would only continue to worsen, and who knows how long it would take to find a way to _stop_ it, let alone _undo_ it all?

Still…

_Donnie, remember! There's always hope! No…_

"No matter what…" he finished aloud, lifting his head slightly as he continued to stare at the screen.

It was definitely a slim chance. But it was one he had to take. He didn't have any other choice.

Sitting up straight in the seat, the terrapin then turned his attention toward his friend. "Leatherhead?" he said softly. "Is there…something we could do about this?"

He received a puzzled expression from the other. "What do you mean?"

"Isn't there some way to…fix this? There has to be _something_ we can do," he stated, with more confidence than he actually had.

And the crocodile wasn't convinced by the act either. "Even if it was possible, it would be a difficult task to accomplish. Given the current state of your condition, it is uncertain if you would have enough time for us to discover any method of reversing the impairment. And that is under the assumption that there _is _a way to repair what has already been done. The likelihood of that is…not in our favor."

Donatello sighed softly, rubbing the back of his neck. He had already known all of that, but to hear it from his fellow scientist was far more discouraging. "I know that it's a shot in the dark…but isn't that what you thought about the cure for the outbreak virus? Even if I had little time left then, and even if at first you weren't able to do anything, you still managed to find an antidote and treat me."

"The circumstances then are much different from now," Leatherhead responded softly, though the words had trouble being said. He had no desire to negate the faith his companion seemed to have, but the realism he was forced to express left no alternative. "I had developed a cure only by improving on what Stockman had already prepared." Thinking about it now, he realized how ironic that particular turn of events was. "Without the work he had initiated, I doubt that any cure would have been administered to you in time."

"But there was still that _possibility_, no matter how small. If there was a cure for _that_, then maybe we can find a way to treat _this_. Besides, we can't just sit back and do _nothing_, can we? If there's any chance of restoring me to normal health, then we have to go and _find_ it. It'll be a risk…but honestly, what have we got to lose?"

Even as the question was spoken, the answer was already painfully obvious to the larger reptile: There was nothing_ left_ to lose. In truth, it was a far greater danger to not do anything.

He returned his attention to the ninja, caught by the pleading expression of the purple-masked eyes. "Please, Leatherhead," the teen said. "I know that our chances are slim…But we still have to _try_. And I won't be able to do this on my own. So will you help me?"

Silence reigned for a brief moment before the crocodile sighed. "You know I will always do whatever I can to assist."

Smiling in immense relief and gratitude, Donatello nodded. "Thank you."

"Of course," was the brief reply. Then with a quick glance of a nearby clock, and inclined for a change of topic, he added, "Your family will be expecting you home soon."

"Yeah, I guess so…" Reaching for his duffle bag with the untouched contraption inside, the turtle then hesitated before turning back to the other. "Could I…ask a small favor though?"

Having begun to clear up some of the materials they had used for prior testing, Leatherhead looked back at him. "Anything."

"Could you…_not_ let anyone know about any of this?"

Of all the requests there could have been, that certainly was not one he was expecting. "What?"

Playing with the strap of his bag, Don answered softly, "I'd…rather not have anyone else knowing about this just yet…"

Previous task forgotten, Leatherhead turned fully to face the other. "You do not plan on letting your family know of this?"

"Well…no. Not yet, anyway. I'd prefer that they don't find out anything right now…and that goes for Casey and April as well."

Perhaps it was one thing to shield the matter from the vigilante, especially considering Donatello's strange desire to keep the matter from his family. Trusting a secret to that human who exhibited certain … tactless behaviors…would most likely be a bad combination. However, after hearing of the particular closeness his friend shared with the red-haired woman, restraining this information from her changed the matter tremendously.

"Is that a wise idea, Donatello?" the croc inquired. "You certainly cannot withhold a secret of this magnitude from all of them for very long."

Wincing a little at the other's choice of words, the young inventor looked up at him. "I know. And I do plan on telling them _eventually_…But for the moment, I think it would be best that they don't know about it. So many things have happened lately, and they've all been overly concerned about me already. I just…don't want to give them another reason to worry."

While he could understand the wish to prevent imposing such burdening knowledge on those he cared for, Leatherhead still found the argument unreasonable. "They are sure to detect something amiss in your behavior, and they will continue to be concerned as you worsen."

The terrapin sighed. "I know. And I _will_ tell them eventually. But I still think it would be better for them not to know about this. Plus, it might be easier for us to work if they weren't hovering around all the time." He shrugged then. "Who knows? Maybe if we _do_ find a way to fix the damage, then there won't be any need to let them know."

Though he did not wish to voice it, the logical realism needed to be remembered. "And if we do not?"

For that, the teen found that he had no way to answer. So instead, he slung the strap of his bag over his shoulder. "I'll find a way to tell them somehow…" he whispered.

"Preferable before it is too late."

He let that comment slide. Turning to his crocodilian companion, he stated, "Anyway, I should probably get back to the lair. They might be wondering why I'm not there yet."

Nodding slightly, the larger reptile then asked, "Would you like some accompaniment back?"

He could see it in his friend's eyes. That same concern that everyone else directed at him when looking his way. No matter how hard they all tried to hide it, it was always there for him to see…reminding him of all the trouble he was putting them through.

Forcing a small smile on his face, he answered, "No thanks. I think I'll be okay on my own. At any rate, if everything goes all right, I'll try to be back in a couple of days."

"All right. I will attempt to commence with some preliminary tests until your return."

"Sounds good. I'll see you later then." With nothing left to be said, Donatello headed for the way out to begin his trip home.

_When you never came back, Donnie…well, everything just…fell apart…_

His eyes shut briefly as the words replayed in his mind, and his fists clenched tightly around the strap of his bag. No…not this time. He was going to make sure of that. This time, he would do everything in his power to prevent that terrible event from ever happening.

He just prayed that it would be enough.

_TBC_

This idea was initially the entire reason behind my desire to write this story to begin with. It came to mind after watching "Good Genes" part 2, and the more I thought about it, the less sense it made to me. As stated by Leatherhead in the chapter, if Donatello's condition was a reaction due to the virus _and_ the Utrom-mutagen, then removing one of the parties does not automatically undo the effects, especially since the mutagen is a permanent part of him. If the virus damaged the cells of his body that contain the mutagen, then that damage would remain even if the virus is removed.

If there's still some confusion, think of it like a lit candle. The fire is what causes the wick to burn. But simply blowing out the flame does not undo the burn that the wick had sustained.

As for the rest of the problem...well, I couldn't very well write a story without some kind of conflict, now could I? Aside from internal conflict, I mean.

To my knowledge (which again, admittedly, is very limited), this specific idea concerning the virus and its effects on Don's body has not been explored or written about. If I'm wrong, I sincerely apologize. It was just an idea that I couldn't get out of my head.

Anyway, please review and let me know if all this makes sense. And if it doesn't...I'm sorry.


	4. Chapter 3

Wow. I wasn't expecting my story to be so enjoyed. Thanks everyone.

Not much to say here. Thanks to **Super Kat** for beta reading for me!

Enjoy.

* * *

"Raph?"

Startled, the red-masked turtle caught hold of the punching bag as it began to swing back at him. Once it was stationed, he grabbed a nearby towel and inhaled deeply before turning to look at the one who had addressed him.

Donatello stood, staring at his older brother quizzically as he tried to formulate something to say. "You probably shouldn't be performing that kind of physical activity right before going to bed," he stated. At this point, he wanted to keep as much neutrality in the exchange as he could.

Annoyance crept into the rebel's features, and he finally broke eye contact to wipe the beads of sweat from his brow. "Yeah well…" he replied, "I didn' know when I was actually gonna go t'bed anyway."

Raph's tone immediately alerted Don to the trouble that he was in, but he still bit his tongue. Did he dare try to explain himself? "What are you doing up so late, Raph?"

"I could ask _you_ the same thing," Raphael retorted, crossing his arms.

The olive terrapin fingered the strap of his duffle bag. "You know that I just got back from Leatherhead's. And I called earlier to let you guys know I'd be home late tonight…"

"Yeah, I remember. And after you called, Splinter wanted someone to wait up for you to get back. I doubt he woulda figured you'd be gettin' here at _three in the morning_!"

Don winced a little. "I know, I'm sorry…We just lost track of the time, that's all. I'm sorry that you had to wait for me for so long. We didn't realize how late it had gotten until I was starting to come back."

"I'm su'prised Leatherhead didn' kick ya out earlier." As his fingers drummed against his arm, the hothead studied the embarrassed and uncomfortable look in the younger one's expression, Don shifted his weight from one foot to the other like a child being scolded by his parent. And Raph wasn't fond of the role he was being forced to play in this particular scene.

With a sigh, his arms dropped to his sides. "Y'know, Donnie, you've been goin' to Leatherhead's place a lot more 'n usual these couple a' weeks, and you've been stayin' out later ev'ry time. What's up with that?"

"He's been helping me with a few projects that I've been struggling with," the inventor answered, more insistently than he had intended to be. "We've been working on different ones a little at a time, so it's taking longer to complete any of them."

While his stern gaze didn't waver, Raphael couldn't claim that he was particularly upset with his intelligent brother. After all, Don was only doing something he loved to do, and it was easy for him to get lost in his work. He couldn't honestly blame him for that. Still, Raphael couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right…

That was when he noticed his brother's weapon. Instead of strapped behind Don's shell as it normally was, the wooden bo was clenched in an olive hand with one end firmly pressed into the ground. Don seemed to support part of his weight with the staff.

Suspicion rising inside him, the jade terrapin quickly crossed the small distance between them. He raised his hand and touched the back of it to Don's forehead…and promptly snatched it back.

"Don, yer burnin' up!" he exclaimed, rubbing to cool the part of his hand that came in contact with the other's skin. For it had felt as though he had rested it on a blazing stove.

"I…I'm not sure what happened," the younger one said softly. "I was fine all day today, but it was only after I left Leatherhead's and was on my way back when I started feeling strange."

Raph glowered, but it was easy to figure out that he was telling the truth. He hadn't seen his brother since earlier that morning, and their sensei wouldn't have allowed him to go if he had already been sick. Plus Leatherhead wouldn't have kept him for so long if Don had gotten sick while he was over there. And if _that_ had happened, then Leatherhead would have gone along with him to make sure he got to the lair in one piece.

But knowing all that did nothing to reassure him. Leatherhead's place wasn't too far from the lair. So how could his brother have gotten so feverish in such a short amount of time? Or…what if Don had left the subway earlier and had collapsed along the way back? What if _that_ was the real reason Don was back so late? Who knows what could have happened then?

Furiously he shook his head. Worrying like that was Leo's job, not his. Still, his concern for his brainy brother was enough, and he knew that something must be done in order to help the other.

"I'm gettin' Splinter," he stated.

He didn't get very far, however, as two hands quickly grasped his wrist and held him back. "Raph, don't!" Donatello pleaded softly. "It's really late, and we shouldn't wake him. I'm sure I'll be fine until morning, so you can just tell him later, okay?"

The hothead scoffed, pulling his wrist out of the other's hold and crossing his arms over his plastron once more. Why did his brother have to be so stubborn about this? Not that _he_ was one to talk, but…Why couldn't Don just take better care of himself? Maybe if he did, they wouldn't be in this kind of position in the first place.

But that's just the way Donnie was. And it was too late – or perhaps too early – to try and argue. With a final huff, he replied, "Fine. But _only_ if you get yer shell inta bed."

The intelligent teen's answer was one that he had already expected. "But I still have to put some things away before going to bed, and…"

Raph wouldn't hear any of it. "You. Bed. _Now_."

"But, Raph…I…oh…" The younger brother's weak protests finally died as he was vigorously ushered to his room. Vaguely Raphael wondered if this was the kind of annoyance that their father experienced daily trying to raise the _four_ of them, and he wondered just how the rat put up with it all the time.

Guiding the purple-clad ninja towards the bed, he then pointed to the duffle bag and said, "Here, gimme that."

Don hesitated as he placed his hand to his bag. He eyed the other warily, almost as though worried about what his brother would do with it. After several moments of internal debating, he finally pulled the strap over his head. "Just be careful with it," he warned as he cautiously handed it over. "The equipment in there is delicate, and if it breaks I'll be trying to put it back together for a month."

Rolling his eyes, Raphael took the bag and gingerly placed it on the nearby desk. "There, ya happy?"

"Well, at least you didn't drop it…" Stifling back a yawn, the young scientist threw back the covers and all but collapsed into his bed, exhaustion taking over as he buried his face into his pillow.

The rebel lingered for a moment, unsure of what to do now. He had intended to remain for a while longer in order to make sure his brother actually went to sleep, for he worried that as soon as he left the room Don would get up and start working on whatever it was in his bag. But his own exhaustion was beginning to catch up to him, begging for the sleep he had been denied for most of the night. Luckily for him, the soft snore that reached his ears told him that the other had instantly fallen asleep. With a sigh, he reluctantly walked closer to the bed and gently pulled the blanket over the now-shivering form.

Observing for a minute longer as the younger turtle slept, he then touched his hand to the other's forehead once more. He didn't pull back this time, but it was difficult not to. It was such an intense heat, and he had to wonder how it must have felt to Don. He couldn't imagine how uncomfortable it must have been.

And he wasn't afraid to admit to himself that he was concerned. What if something _had_ happened to Donatello on his way back? He certainly had made it back all right, but there had still been that chance for some disaster to strike, and that's what bothered Raph the most. Why hadn't he called when he was feeling so sick? Well, maybe he figured that they had all gone to bed and hadn't wanted to wake them. But if he had just called, _anyone _would have gone to get him knowing that he had fallen ill again.

Raph had to contend with the idea that his younger brother had traveled by himself with that kind of fever without anyone knowing. Plus now _he _would have to be the one to tell the others what happened, and he could just imagine how Master Splinter and Leo were going to take the news. Questions would be asked, most of which he wouldn't be able to answer and would probably just set his already-frazzled nerves on edge. And then the rest of the day would be spent taking care of Don, who would more or less put up a fight if Splinter wanted him to stay in bed.

Raph sighed, rubbing his weary eyes. Morning was going to be _hell_…

* * *

The evening was much darker than it should have been as eerie thick clouds above shadowed the light of the moon. Heavy rain poured and further obscured the surrounding area, bending and twisting the city's lights before sending them back into the darkness where they disappeared. The droplets drowned out all other sounds and drenched anything that was caught by their chilling touch.

But the lone figure continued on his way, undeterred by the storm and its black hold on the world. The destination was already set in his mind, and he wouldn't allow anything to stop him from reaching it. Using his wooden staff to support his weakened body, he carefully walked along the water-slick path.

_A couple years after you disappeared, Master Splinter gave his life protecting the three of us…_

His body tightened as he froze for a brief moment, hearing the words echo in his memories once again.

_We already tried that Donnie. How do you think we lost Casey?_

It was always the same. Everything he heard always played the same way in his mind, and so he knew what would follow next. So he ran, desperate to reach his planned destination, for the words that followed were always the most painful.

_Donnie! Donnie, I'm – uhn – AAAAAAAAAGH!_

His heart pounded in his chest…

_UUUUUUUGH…! Ugh…ah…_

…his breath quickened…

_Leo…! Leo! Huuuur…ugh…ah…_

…And he finally arrived at his long-awaited place. His pace slowed to a stop, and he tried to calm his heavy breathing as he studied the secluded area past the falling rain and through the darkness. Standing in the clearing, a soothing tranquility swept through him and calmed the chaotic memories.

When he was first brought to that place a while back, he had committed it to memory. Then after they had all returned and everything had more or less settled down, he sought out to locate the area, retracing the steps that had only been taken once in another world. But it was still the same place, and not even thirty years could change it.

And somehow, he found himself frequently returning to the spot when he wanted a quiet place to think and clear his head. It was hard to explain the peaceful feeling that overcame him every time he visited the site, and he found it strangely ironic considering how he became acquainted with the spot in the first place.

_Master Yoshi used to bring him here to the park, back in the day. It's not the safest place…but it's where Sensei wanted to be buried._

With a sigh, Donatello leaned back against a nearby tree as his eyes struggled to focus on a single spot. The ghost of the grave marker stood there, much easier to see than the surrounding water-beaten area. But even as he stared at the memory, the peculiar serenity did not waver. And he readily embraced it, for he knew it would only last for as long as he stood in that place.

He needed it, now especially, as he tried to sort through the lingering remembrances of the deaths of all those in that other world. Those instances, the voices that spoke those final words…they were all coming back much more often lately. Seeing the forlorn gazes on the faces of those who spoke of Master Splinter or Casey…hearing the dying cries of his brothers as they breathed their last…haunting his thoughts and dreams once again. But this time…this time he knew the reason behind their plaguing occurrence.

Donatello was reminded of their deaths so often now…because he was one more step closer to his own.

He attempted to wipe the stream of water from his eyes. It had been several days since the second fever had hit and he had found Raphael waiting for up for him. But even though the fever had abated, he knew his family would not approve of him standing out in a storm, fearing he would grow ill again. What they didn't know, however, was that his ailment could not be affected by his outside environment. Two fevers had come and gone, and he expected more to fluctuate as time progressed, but none would have anything to do with common illness.

It wasn't a flu bug or a simple germ. It was caused by the remnants of a dangerous, artificial virus that for many others had since been cured.

All the same, he couldn't blame them for not knowing. After all, he still had yet to tell them of what was happening, despite Leatherhead's insistence and his own understanding that they had to learn the truth. The tests and trials that he and his crocodilian companion had performed during the preceding weeks had continuously proved null, and they were no closer to finding a solution than they had been when they started. Even during the days when he had been stuck at home with the second fever, Leatherhead had continued with experiments, but nevertheless found no positive results.

Before Donatello had realized it, an entire month had slipped away.

But that was why he _had_ to come to that spot, downpour or not. He desired the calm that only this place could give him – the place that meant so much to Master Splinter, and now him as well – in order to sort through the disordered and confused thoughts that raged through his mind. He needed this momentary quiet to contemplate in order to determine the precise words to tell his family everything.

He had told Leatherhead that he wished to postpone informing his family about the current developments because he didn't want them to worry any further than they already had, and that had been true. After everything they had gone through on his behalf, he preferred to wait a while longer before forcing them to go through that same kind of experience again. However, it hadn't been the only reason he wanted to delay the news. He hesitated simply because he had no idea of how to tell them.

They had risked so much to save him the first time. How was he supposed to tell them that their efforts had all been for naught, and that despite it all he was _still_ going to die?

Yet he knew that he had to tell them soon. While there was still five months left…while there was still _some_ time left…it could easily fade away just as the first month had, and it could quickly become too late. And given the results of the testing that they've accomplished, even he was beginning to feel that nothing could be done to prevent the approaching end.

Even he was beginning to lose hope.

Truth to tell, though, he wasn't exactly certain how he felt about the recent turn of events. They had risked their lives constantly before, and there had always been the chance for death to take them. And after all, everyone died eventually. So to say that he was afraid of dying would have been dishonest. Perhaps this was not the way he had expected to expire, and he certainly would prevent it if he could, but he couldn't positively say that he was fearful of death…at least not yet.

But people hardly lived isolated. Those who passed away ordinarily left loved ones behind. And while it was truly upsetting when a person finally must surrender their life to the grave, they were no longer afflicted with any pain or burdens. In a way, death had set them free. All the suffering, all the regrets and torments that followed would be left to bear for those who were closest.

_That _was what terrified Donatello more than anything.

If he could just find a way to tell them….to let them know what was eventually goingto happen….then maybe it would help ease the pain slightly afterwards. There was still five months left, after all. Perhaps those last precious months could be spent getting closer to his family as possible, and hopefully they all could eventually come to terms with the inevitable. Maybe it wasn't _very much_ time to deal with it all, but it was certainly better than nothing. Telling them now and giving them time to cope with it would surely be less painful than if he didn't and then – in their eyes – suddenly left them.

Plus if he told them soon, then it could possibly help prevent a future from breaking.

_We were a team. Without you…it just didn't work._

Inhaling deeply as the thought entered his mind once again, he slowly released it to restore the tranquility he needed. In the beginning, it had never made any sense to him. He could never understand how _his_ disappearance could trigger such a desolate world. He couldn't comprehend how his brothers – who he sometimes imagined might benefit better without him – could become so shattered within _themselves_ that they drifted away from _each other_.

But he knew that if that could happen because of _his_ disappearance, then it would certainly happen if one of _them_ was suddenly taken away.

After witnessing the world of what could be, remnants of it lingered for weeks within his nightmares. He finally managed to accept it, though, and to work through the experience by making a promise.

If something ever happened to one of his brothers, leaving three of them behind, Donatello vowed that he would do everything in his power to ensure that the family would not collapse. He had seen first-hand what happened when a clan was divided, and to him it was not acceptable. If forced into that position, then he would do whatever it took to keep them together…to remind them that they should never turn their backs on those they most needed.

It was really the only advantage he had seen in his visit to the other world. Being able to see the effects of severing a family gave him the opportunity to try and prevent it. And now he had to make sure that the others had that same chance. He had to make sure that his family would not suffer after his departure the way they had in that frightful world.

That was why he _had_ to tell them…

_How the_ _shell could you just _abandon_ us like that?!_

Everything.

And it had to be soon. Even if it wasn't going to be easy, all he could do was tell them the truth.

His head lifted slightly to look at the sky when the pressure of the rain suddenly eased. The storm was finally subsiding, shifting into a light drizzle as a forceful gust pushed the clouds to their next destination.

But even with the powerful wind and his soaked form, Donatello felt none of the surrounding chill. Instead, he felt a soothing touch washing over him, cooling the fire that was contained within since the passing of his first fever. It was a fleeting sensation, though, and the burning quickly returned. With a small sigh, he pushed himself away from the tree he was resting against, supporting himself with his bo as he began his trek home.

It was a slow tread back through the park, but he was thankful that the light rain allowed him to see with less difficulty. As he sauntered, he vaguely wondered if anyone had heard him leave before and were waiting up for him to return. Perhaps he should seek a persuasive excuse for his abrupt topside visit, just in case.

It was then that the mild fire in his chest exploded.

With a strangled cry, Donatello found himself forced to his knees by the burning pain that raged within, consuming his trembling body in a blazing sensation. The fiery torture rapidly spread throughout his entire being, and not even the rain could alleviate it now. The pain continued to push him down, trying to drive him further to the ground. His arms struggled to support his upper body while he fought to maintain consciousness.

'What's…happening to me?' he wondered, his mind racing as the internal flames tried to burn through his head. He gripped the sodden grass beneath his palms when understanding revealed itself. 'No…not now…Not now! I-it can't…This can't happen now!'

It was too soon for anything like this to happen. There was supposed to still be time left. He _needed _to get home. It wasn't supposed to _be_ this way. He had to get home and _tell_ them! Why did this have to happen _now_?!

Now…that he had snuck off to the park when he should have been resting at home. Now…when he had left his shell cell back at the lair because he assumed he wouldn't be gone for too long. Now…before he had a chance to explain everything.

And even after all that was happening, Fate still decided to twist the knife in his heart.

The soft gasp somehow tore through his turbulent inferno to reach his last remaining senses. His head shot up, and though the pain and drizzle combined to obscure his vision, he could at least see enough to make out the blurred figure that stood amidst the night, watching him intensely. If his heart hadn't been racing before, it certainly was at that moment.

With no strength left to do anything except finally give into the fire inside, he could only imagine the consequences of being seen by a person.

'I'm…I'm so sorry…everyone…'

Even as he slipped into nothingness, the darkness did nothing to relieve the burning pain.

_TBC_

Now, you didn't think I was going to make it easy for Don, did you?

Two things about the very ending of this chapter:  
1) Don't _assume _anything at this point  
2) _Trust _me. I know (almost) exactly what I'm doing.

So please review and let me know what you think. Later!


	5. Chapter 4

You guys are fantastic. I never expected such a positive reaction for this story, and I'm glad that you guys enjoy reading it. Thanks so much!

Admittedly, there's not much Donnie in this chapter. But hey, it wouldn't be fair if I didn't torture the rest of his family a little, now would it?

Thanks again to **Super Kat **for beta reading for me! Enjoy!

* * *

_Inhaling deeply, Donatello then released the breath slowly as he leveled his wooden bo in his hands. Then he shifted into a fighting position, raising one end of the staff near his head as the other end prepared to strike. A moment passed, but the attack faded as the bo was held over the plastron in a defensive stance._

_And Splinter remained at the entrance of the dojo, watching his son's movements with a curious eye. While he wanted to know why the young turtle was out of bed so late at night, he chose not to intervene yet. There was a reason for this strange behavior, and the wise rat was waiting for the best opportunity to address the child. Until then, he lingered in the shadows and searched for an indication of any problems._

_The evidence he was waiting for, along with a touch of surprise, came when Donatello gave a frustrated cry and threw his staff to the ground. The small boy soon followed, sitting down heavily as he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand._

_With the silent speed of a ninja, the father sat before his son and drew the child into his arms. The terrapin's form stiffened, but soon relaxed as he settled in his master's embrace. The two sat in that manner for a brief eternity as Splinter did his best to comfort his son._

_Another minute faded before Donatello could look at the rat. The eyes beneath the violet bandana calculated, seeking the right words to speak. "I…I'm sorry I'm not in bed, Sensei," he finally managed. "I…I had a hard time sleeping, so I…I thought I'd get in some practice."_

_Splinter studied his young student's face. A faint trace of sadness still remained in the youthful expression. "There are times when you do not wish to participate in training," he stated, "and yet you expect me to believe that you would choose practice over sleep?"_

_The turtle had no response, turning his gaze away. With a sigh, the father held his son closer. "What is it that troubles you, my son?"_

_While Donatello still gave no answer, he cast a fleeting glance over his shoulder at something behind him. Splinter followed the direction of the gaze and found the wooden staff he had appointed the turtle mere days ago, resting on the ground a few feet in front of him._

_"Donatello…you cannot expect to master your weapon so quickly. You and your brothers will learn to handle your unique weapons at a pace that suits your individual styles…"_

_"Oh, I know, Master Splinter," the boy replied. "That's not the problem…"_

_Splinter frowned as he tried to understand his child. "Then what is bothering you?"_

_The rat loosened his hold as his young charge altered his sitting arrangement, turning so that the carapace rested against the furred chest as Donatello leaned against his father. "You…had reasons for giving us our different weapons, right?"_

_"I did…" the master affirmed._

_The olive turtle hesitated, focusing on the staff that lay in front of them. "Why…did you give me a bo?" The question was a bare whisper, struggling for composure. "It's not…it's not because I'm…_weak_…is it?"_

_Splinter froze. That was not what he had expected to hear. "Wherever did you get that_ _idea?"_

_"We were just talking about our weapons and stuff yesterday…Mikey said it was really weird that you gave me something made of wood even though I play with electronics and other things made of metal. And then Raph said it was because I'm a bad ninja and can't fight. So you gave me the weapon used for defense because other weapons would be wasted on me, and then I thought that…" A sob interrupted his words and sent a shiver through the small body._

_"Shh…" the father whispered, holding his son closer to calm the boy's rising anxiety. He would have to speak with Raphael in the morning._

_"It's not true, is it?" Donatello asked, looking up at his sensei. "You didn't give me a bo because I can't fight, did you?"_

_"No. I gave you the bo for many reasons, but that is certainly not one of them."_

_The child sighed as his body relaxed slightly. Yet there was still doubt in the young eyes. "But then why? If it's not because of _that_, then why did you give me a bo?"_

_Contemplating the appropriate answer, Splinter then reached around his son and took the wooden staff into his paws. "I chose this weapon for you because I felt that it would best suit you."_

_"Why?"_

_"Because," the rat answered as he held the staff in front of the student, "I am aware that you do not enjoy learning ninjitsu."_

_The turtle's head snapped up, looking at the master with wide eyes where Splinter caught a hint of fear. "It's all right, my son. I have suspected this for some time. While your brothers find some appeal in training that match their abilities, you have never shown such interest. It was not difficult to notice that you harness your physical skills simply because I ask you to."_

_Playing with the violet ribbon wrapped around the staff, Donatello hesitated before asking, "Are…you mad?"_

_Shaking his head, Splinter placed a paw to his son's head. "No. I could never be angry just because your pursuits differ from what I teach you. You still try your best to learn, even if it is not something you want. I have also seen the dedication you put into learning science, and the care you display when taking apart and fixing the mechanical devices you encounter. You prefer the potential to create over the potential to destroy. That is why I believe a weapon of defense is the best weapon…for a ninja who prefers not to fight."_

_Considering his teacher's words as he looked at the staff in front of him, the boy then looked back up. "But even a weapon of defense…is still a _weapon_, isn't it?"_

_The master couldn't hide his smile. "That is correct. Even if the bo is a weapon primarily used for defense, it is a weapon nonetheless. And that is another reason why I have chosen it for you."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_Gently taking his son's hand, Splinter centered the staff on a small olive finger. "Despite its fragile appearance, the bo can yield a great power. To use it, though, one must control the balance. Too much force, and the bo could be damaged. Too little, and the bo will never reach its full potential. Unfortunately, it is difficult to maintain this balance in the heat of battle. It will take a sharp mind to quickly reason the appropriate way of using this weapon."_

_"And you think _I_ can do that?" Donatello asked as he placed the bo down, his tone high with skepticism._

_"I do. You possess a cleverness that levels your brothers' physical abilities and aides you in your training. You also demonstrate great intelligence as you learn of the automations you are so fascinated with. You are resourceful, and the bo will aide as an extension of your mentality."_

_"But Raph said –"_

_"Do not mind what your brother has told you. One day you will become a strong ninja in your own right. I am sure of that."_

_The small turtle gazed up at his sensei, the remaining doubt in his eyes mixing with curious wonder. "You really think so?"_

_The wise rat nodded. "Of course. I have faith in you, Donatello."_

_And he watched as the expression on the young face brightened. The child turned and buried himself in a deep embrace, which the father gladly returned. When they both pulled away, Splinter said, "And now it's time for bed. You must get some sleep for training tomorrow."_

_Lingering for a moment longer, Donatello eventually complied and slid out of the master's arms. As the two rose, the student delicately took the wooden staff in his olive hands, holding his appointed weapon with a new respect. Looking up at his teacher, he grinned._

_Splinter returned the smile, placing his paw on his son's head as he ushered the child back to bed for some well-deserved rest._

* * *

As his mind eased into reality, Splinter opened his eyes and sighed heavily. Though the memory came unexpectedly, it wasn't difficult to realize why it had surfaced in his thoughts. After all, the very bo from the recollection rested on the ground before him.

Unfortunately, the staff's owner had yet to be found.

They had discovered Donatello's disappearance one morning, following the night of a heavy storm. An examination throughout the sewers yielded no sign of the missing terrapin, but the day's light inhibited them from searching on the surface. Instead, Raphael asked Casey to explore in their place until they could look for themselves at nightfall.

Around dusk, the vigilante arrived at the lair with the mud-covered bo in hand. He informed them that he had found it in the park, but the rain had removed any other clues concerning the purple-masked turtle. And after hours of searching, the staff was all the man could find.

The bo had been slightly water-damaged, but Splinter cleaned and refurbished it as best he could. That was how the bo found its way into his room, and that was where it had remained for the past few days. He intended to place the staff in Donatello's room, but somehow never managed to do so.

The rat gently took the bo into his paws. Every time he held the wooden staff, he felt the faint presence of its wielder. There was also a sense of pain that he could not explain, and he feared what may have happened to his son. The weapon, after all, had been found just in the park…just above their home. What could have transpired in that small distance?

Whatever it was, he suspected that it could have been prevented.

Donatello had held so many secrets, refused to discuss so many things before his mysterious departure. The father had granted privacy, but he had hoped his son would eventually approach him with the troubling issues, just as he had before. Then perhaps something could have been done to help the intelligent turtle.

A nostalgic smile spread across his features as he continued to gaze at the bo. Its story had been more than just a memory, he realized. It reminded him of a time when his sons were willing to tell him everything. It seemed so long ago when his children were younger, entirely dependent on his care and guidance.

But his sons were growing up, and while they still sought his advice, he could no longer direct them which paths to take. Each of them had to find his own way, to make his own decisions, and all Splinter could do was give them that freedom. They would make mistakes, and it would be up to his sons to learn from them. He could no longer provide them with all the answers.

Still, even if he could not pick them up anymore when they stumbled, he would always be there to help them pick themselves up.

If only Donatello had kept that in mind.

Rising to his feet, Splinter rested the wooden staff against the wall. It wasn't the time to dwell on 'what if' and 'should have'. Now, he had to believe – and help his sons believe – that things would turn out all right. In the memory, he stated that he had faith in Donatello's abilities. This time, he had faith that his intelligent son would return home safely…

He just didn't know when.

With a shake of his head, the master sighed and left his room. An eerie silence had settled throughout the lair, similar to the previous nights whenever his sons went topside and continued the search for their missing brother. They would return soon, but he suspected that this night would yield no answers of Donatello's disappearance, and they would arrive just as frustrated and disheartened as they had left. He would have to find some way to encourage them.

Perhaps he should have accompanied them when they went to the surface. But he always remained at the lair when they went. After all, someone had to remain in case Donatello returned home. Still, wasn't there something else he could do besides sit and wait?

He could try locating Donatello through meditation. But recent attempts thus far proved unsuccessful. Each time he would only detect a weak trace of his son – accompanied by a fiery pain – for a fleeting moment before the aura disappeared. It felt as though something was preventing him from reaching his son's mind. Of course he would keep trying, but there had to be something else he could do to help find the missing turtle.

For now, he decided, he would at least make some tea.

He paused on his way to the kitchen, however, when his sensitive hearing picked up a faint sound nearby. His ears twitched, trying to decipher the noise. Someone had entered the lair, but the footsteps that followed did not belong to any of his sons. Few had knowledge of their new home, and while the coming presence did not feel threatening, Splinter still was on guard.

His defenses lowered as the individual came into sight. "Leatherhead?"

The crocodile entered, his features displaying a great hesitancy. "I apologize for coming unexpectedly like this," he stated. "I hope I am not here at an inopportune time."

"No, it's all right. My sons, though, are still out searching."

"I imagined so," the reptile replied. "There is…something that I must discuss with all of you, but it may be easier if I explain to you first before telling the others."

Splinter sensed the magnitude of the issue that weighed down the other's tone, and he knew that everyone should be present to reveal such an important matter. Still, the crocodile's behavior left the ninja master curious. With a small nod, he led the scientist to the table in the kitchen.

"Would you care for some tea?" the rat offered as he began to fill his kettle with water. He expected that he would need the calming beverage later.

"No, thank you," Leatherhead answered as he situated himself in one of the chairs. "I need to speak with you about Donatello…"

Placing the kettle on the stove, Splinter then sat across from the crocodile. "Have you heard anything from him?" he asked, reality suppressing the hope in his voice.

"Unfortunately, I have not. However, I believe I can offer…an explanation of his sudden disappearance."

The ninja master's questioning expression prompted the reptile to continue. "As you know, Donatello has come to see me frequently during the past month."

"Yes." Splinter nodded. "The visits started shortly after he recovered from a fever…"

"Donatello did mention that when he came the first time. I believe, though, that he chose not to tell _you _about the burning sensations in his chest that developed shortly after his recuperating."

The rat's eyes widened. "No…he never informed me of such." Which could also indicate that the intelligent turtle never told any of his brothers either.

Leatherhead sighed with a slight nod, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, Donatello had come to me that day, asking for my help to determine the cause of the pain he was experiencing."

"And…what did you find?" But Splinter was unsure if he was willing to hear the answer.

The reptile hesitated, his eyes turning away from the other. "To put it simply…Donatello in fact never was able to recover from the damage inflicted by Bishop's outbreak virus, even after the virus was cured. Left untreated, his body will only continue to worsen…until he finally perishes from it."

Steam hissed in a screeching wail as the kettle rattled on the stove. But the clamor went unnoticed, for all Splinter heard were those terrible words.

"Since that day," Leatherhead forced himself to continue, "Donatello has been coming to see me so we could search for ways to prevent that from happening. When he fell ill again, I suspected that it was a result from his condition. I continued with our experiments, but so far have found nothing that will help him."

"And you believe that Donatello's disappearance is because of his waning health?"

"I believe that it could be a factor," the scientist corrected. "While we believed that Donatello still had some time before he fully succumbed, the rate of his deterioration was rather unpredictable. It is possible…that his decline accelerated even for a brief amount of time."

So many questions filled the ninja master's mind. But there was especially one that he needed to know. "How much time…did Donatello have left?"

Leatherhead's attention focused on his hands. "We…estimated that at this point he had about five months left…"

Splinter swore his heart had stopped. "Five…months?" he repeated. How could that be…? How could his son…his second youngest son…have only five months left to live?

As the rat finally noticed the kettle's protests atop the stove's heat, he got up to retrieve it. He kept his back to his visitor as he turned down the temperature, his mind racing as he considered everything he was told. How could he have never noticed the pain Donatello must have felt since the first fever passed? How could he not see what his son was going through? How could he not know…what was happening to him?

What kind of father was he?

"I regret that you had to hear all of this from me," he heard Leatherhead utter. "Donatello should have been the one to inform you of this news, but he claimed that he wished to wait for the correct time. And he had asked that I refrain from mentioning this to you as well. Given the most recent circumstances, however, I felt that I had no choice."

Splinter turned back to face the crocodile, though the kitchen's entrance temporarily held his attention. "I understand," he said. "I appreciate that you came to notify us what has happened." But to the rat's sensitive ears, his words sounded numb and automatic. There was no feeling behind his claim.

Whether Leatherhead noticed or not remained to be seen. Instead, the reptile gave a low sigh. "I just wish I knew how to tell Leonardo and the others…"

The ninja master shook his head. "That…is something that you do not need to worry about."

The other's words puzzled the crocodile, but the confusion only lasted for a moment as the doorway drew his notice, where the three distraught turtles stood looking in at them.

Splinter watched his sons, catching a glimpse of the troubled expressions on their faces… understanding the fear in their eyes. He was aware what they were thinking, for he was thinking it as well.

They had to find Donatello soon…or they may never see him again.

_TBC_

So what did you guys think? Hope it was all right.

Unfortunately, it may take a while before I get the next chapter up. I'm on spring break right now, but it ends next week. After that, class work will keep me pretty busy for a while. Hopefully I'll be able to update soon, but we'll have to see.

Anyway, please review and let me know how it was. Until next time!


	6. Chapter 5

Wow, I'm so sorry that it's taken me so long to update. Things were so busy with school (end of the semester and whatnot), and then I had other projects that I wanted to work on and get up before I lost interest with them. Plus there are other stories that I want to update this summer (though at this time, it looks a little doubtful that I'll get _those_ done). I know I shouldn't make excuses, though, so I'm sorry. I hope you guys don't mind that it's taken this long.

There's not much to say about this chapter. I wonder if you guys will figure out what I'm doing with these next few chapters...(evil cackle) Anyway...

Thanks again to **Super Kat** for beta reading for me!

Anyway, please enjoy this chapter! Happy reading!

* * *

The echo of the steel blade reverberated against the walls of the dojo as it cut through the air, but Leonardo was still unsatisfied. Taking a step to his side, he swung his second sword up, holding the hilt above his head. His brow furrowed with frustration, and he jabbed the weapon at his invisible enemy. Another step forward, and both swords swept to his sides.

No matter what he did, it just wasn't enough.

That's why he had to keep working; he had to keep going. And he was predicting long practice hours once again.

It had somehow become a habit over the past few weeks. When they weren't topside searching, and if he wasn't in his room, then the rest of his family would always find him in the dojo training. Though he did consider finding another location to spend his time…if only to avoid confrontations he preferred didn't take place.

"LEO!!"

The blue-masked ninja sighed and shook his head. Like clockwork…

His swords clanged together as he crossed them in front of him, continuing the battle stances even as Raphael stormed into the dojo.

"Leo…!"

"No," the older brother answered as the twin katanas sliced down.

The terse response did not deter Raph. "C'mon, Leo! We gotta check at least!"

The leader took another step forward, stabbing the air with one sword as the other remained at his side. "We don't have any proof that he's there."

"It's been _weeks_, Leo. We've already looked _ev'ry_where else! It's the only place left!"

It was always the same argument, but Leo wasn't going to fall for his brother's exaggeration. The city was a big place, and there were still plenty of areas to look. "I just don't think –"

"Don' think what?" Raph shot back. "You don' think _she'd_ do somethin' like this? Why _not_? I mean, whaddya _think_ was gonna happen when we a stole that whatever-it-was from her? Ya think she's just gonna take that sittin' down? No way!" He raised a fist. "Of course she'd try ta get even! We took somethin' from her, and now she took some_one_ from us! We gotta go in there an' get 'im back!"

Leo's grip on his swords tightened, but he didn't look at his brother and continued practicing his stances. "Even _if _you were right…" he ventured, "we wouldn't get too far. We already broke in once, and there's no way she's going to let us do it again."

"So what? That's never stopped us before!"

That was a good point. But something just didn't feel right. Shaking his head, Leo said, "We should wait until we're absolutely sure…"

Raph growled. "Fine, Leo. _Fine_. You wanna wait? We'll wait until he's _dead_! How's _that_ for ya?!"

It was only then that Leo turned to face his brother. "Raph…" he implored, but said nothing more as the hothead stalked off. With a heavy sigh, he sheathed his swords. He knew Raph wouldn't give up on this. The other would remind him any chance he got. Even if he managed to avoid his brother for the rest of the day, Raph would only just try again tomorrow.

After hearing from Leatherhead about Donatello's condition, they kept a close watch over the news for any mention of a giant turtle found in the park. They thought that if something happened to Don…if he had fallen ill suddenly…he couldn't have protected himself from being seen. If he couldn't protect himself, then he couldn't have done anything if whoever saw him took him somewhere or alerted the media. News of a five-foot turtle would spread quickly, and there would no doubt be people who wanted to study him.

Days went by, however, without such a story. No one was sure what to make of it. Discovering a mutant turtle would be a hard secret to keep for the average person, especially if scientists would give anything to study the find. Or it would serve as a way to spread warnings about "threats" to society, which is something they expected from people like Bishop. But to hear nothing of it…It seemed suspicious.

It was after the first week when Raphael came up with his explanation of what happened to Don. If something happened to Don, then he wouldn't have been able to defend himself…from an attack. It was the perfect opportunity for _her_ to get revenge.

Karai.

Leonardo heard the idea again and again. Raph believed that Don was ambushed in the park by the Foot and was now being held hostage at Foot Central. Karai had no need to expose their presence to the world. Instead; she would use their brother as bait to draw them – or more specifically, Leo – out and confront her. She wanted payback, but she also wanted Leo to fight her. And she would do anything to achieve her means.

At least in Raph's mind. Leo wasn't as convinced.

Like him, Karai was bound by her duty. They had killed her father, and by her honor she swore to avenge his name. But it was that honor that left him unsure. After all, there was no honor in seizing someone who couldn't fight back.

If Don _had_ fallen sick again and was unable to defend himself, would Karai really capture him? Leo couldn't imagine her doing something like that. And even if it was a trap, wouldn't she have tried to contact him by now? Why make them wait a month?

It was just too hard to be sure. As Don would say, there were too many unknowns to make an accurate decision.

Leo shook his head. One brother was already missing. He wasn't going to put his remaining two in danger without being certain that it would help somehow.

Donnie wouldn't want him to.

Sitting on the ground heavily, Leo folded his arms and crossed his legs as he tried to think. He still had to consider the chance that Karai _did _capture Donatello to lure them out. If it was meant as a trap, then they would have to take extra precautions. She would be expecting them, so it would be much harder for them to sneak inside.

"But she won't let us in that easily," Leo muttered aloud. "We snuck in once, and she won't let us get away with it again."

The information that Bishop previously gave them would be useless now. Karai would alter all the codes, rearrange the schedules and systems, and Leo wouldn't put it past her to make some changes to the floor plans and structures as she had done before; anything to make infiltration that much harder for them. They couldn't just barge inside without a better plan.

Because if they rushed in unprepared, then it would be Donatello who would pay for their recklessness.

Without an idea of how Karai would change the building, they would have a difficult time _locating_ Donatello, let alone trying to _rescue_ him. She would hold all the cards, and while they would blindly wander the massive building, she would easily get to their brother before them. There was no telling what she would be able to do to Donnie during the time it would take to find him.

They wouldn't be able to stop her in time if she decided to kill him.

Not that he could explain any of this to Raphael. Lately, everything agitated his hotheaded brother, and he couldn't sit still for too long. Their recent conversations didn't last long, and Raph's anger and frustration often interrupted Leo. He knew there was something wrong, and that there was a reason Raph was behaving this way. But he also knew that he would never get the chance to ask. When Raph wasn't arguing with him, it was hard to find the two in the same room.

Leo sighed, sliding his hand over his head. If he didn't do something soon, Raph might defy him completely and try to sneak into Foot Central on his own. Actually, he was surprised that Raph hadn't tried to do so already, though Leo did see the other sneaking out of the lair a few weeks ago. Mikey had gone after their sai-wielding brother, so he hadn't followed, and the two of them returned a short time later. Still, it might be a good idea to keep a closer eye on Raph.

Maybe he could also have April run through the data Bishop had given them before, just to see how much of it they could still use. Hopefully that would be enough to satisfy his red-banded brother until they were able to gather enough information to formulate a plan.

But to get the needed information would take time…something they just didn't have. Because with every moment that passed, Donatello was dying. There was nothing they could do to stop it…because they had failed to do so the first time.

Growling softly, Leo shook his head. They had a chance to help Donnie before, back when the virus was still around. And they had done everything they could, certain that it would be enough. But that had been their worst mistake, and now because of it Donatello didn't have much longer to live. Even though Leatherhead was still trying to find a way to cure it, there was nothing they could do to assist.

There was only four months left. If they didn't find Donatello soon…

"No!" he said, pressing a fist into his forehead. "It can't be like that! It can't…There's gotta be something we can do…" But in his mind, he knew there wasn't. They had no way of finding an answer…no way to fix this problem.

They weren't Donatello.

It was strange how Leo never recognized how much they depended on the quiet turtle until he wasn't there to help them. After all, Donnie was always the one they would go to for the answers, the one they would turn to when they needed a dilemma solved. He always came up with ideas to help with the dangerous plans, and the gadgets he built came in handy more than once. When they needed something fixed, it was Donatello who they sought for help; whether it was an electronic, an appliance…or a limb.

That realization hit Leo the hardest. Donnie wasn't a doctor, but they still relied on him to "fix" whatever was wrong. Anything from major injuries to minor illnesses; it had all fallen under Don's jurisdiction. Master Splinter used to be the one to take care of such things, but now even he asked for Donnie's assistance. It had been that way for so long that none of them really gave it a second thought. Leo had forgotten exactly when Don had been put in charge of health care.

But he certainly could never forget _how_ he learned of his brother's new responsibilities.

* * *

_It was Raphael's turn to go foraging with Master Splinter while Leonardo was put in charge of the lair. It wasn't supposed to be a difficult job. Leo had been placed in charge of his younger brothers before when their sensei was away. And the lair wasn't very large to begin with._

_So how was it possible to lose track of his brothers?_

_He found Donatello in the space between the two bunk beds, surrounded by parts of electronics he had taken apart and was carefully inspecting. But no matter where the blue-masked turtle looked, he couldn't track down Michelangelo. It wasn't uncommon for the youngest to disappear for a while to prepare for a small prank, so he hadn't been worried at first._

_But an hour was enough to change his mind._

_Returning to the bunk beds, Leo watched as his intelligent brother continued to inspect an open electronic. Careful not to step on any of the strewn pieces, he asked, "Have you seen Mikey?"_

_"Mm…no," Donnie replied, not looking up. "Not since Master Splinter left. But I've been working on this…"_

_Leo sighed, quickly glancing around the room in case he had missed something. But he knew he hadn't. Mikey wouldn't have gone out of the lair, would he? He knew better than to leave when Master Splinter was out._

_Still…_

_"Need help finding him?"_

_Leo turned back and found Donnie watching him. "Would you mind?" Truthfully, he didn't want to ask his younger brother for help with something that was his responsibility. But he knew Master Splinter would be returning soon, and he needed to find Mikey before then._

_The purple-masked turtle looked down at the device in his hands, hesitant to part with it. After a moment, he answered, "Sure…Lemme just put these away."_

_Donnie pulled out a box from under the bunk bed, carefully beginning to put the contraptions and pieces away. Leo knelt down to help; since Donnie was being nice and helping him look for Mikey, he could at least help his brother put stuff away. Besides, the sooner they finished, the sooner they'd find the troublemaker before Master Splinter got back._

_Donnie glanced up at him and flashed a grateful smile before putting something in the box. But then his attention snapped back to his older brother. "Wait, Leo, be careful with that –!"_

_"OW!" The device Leo held immediately fell to the floor as he cradled his hand to his plastron. "Ow, ow, ow!" Crimson droplets dripped onto the ground; several beads quickly followed the first._

_Jumping to his feet, Donnie hopped over the bottom bunk and disappeared into the bathroom. He quickly returned carrying a towel and the first aid kit, kneeling beside his older brother. "Lemme see," he said gently, drawing Leo's hand away from his plastron._

_Leo winced a little as he felt the painful throbbing in his hand. As he uncurled his stained fingers, he could just make out the thick line that stretched from his thumb to his second finger under the blood._

_Looking at the cut for a moment, Donnie then firmly pressed the towel to Leo's palm. "Hold it like this," he instructed. When his hands were freed, he opened the small white box beside him._

_Leo curiously watched his younger brother move things around in the box. He knew that they were not allowed to touch the first aid kit without their Sensei, since medical supplies were so difficult to obtain and were only to be used for emergencies. So what was Donnie doing?_

_"Sorry about that, Leo," he suddenly heard Donnie pipe up. "I didn't think you were going to go for that one…If I did, I would have warned you. Does it hurt?"_

_The blue-masked turtle looked at the cloth pressed in his hand. "Not really. I think I was more surprised than anything." But it certainly stung. "What happened, anyway?"_

_"Well, when I was taking the cover off that device, it was stuck and I ended up taking it apart kind of funny. It left a sharp piece sticking out that I've been meaning to pull out, but I kind of forgot about it."_

_Leo looked down at the offending electronic and noticed it had broken in half on impact. "Oops," he said sheepishly. "Sorry, Donnie."_

_Looking at the contraption as well, the younger brother frowned but shrugged. "It was broken, anyway," he replied, turning back to Leo. "Here, lemme see your hand again."_

_Leo slowly lifted the towel, revealing the dark line in the green flesh. Donnie unscrewed a small bottle and dabbed its red-orange contents onto a cotton ball, then took hold of Leo's wrist. "This'll sting a bit…" he warned before pressing the cotton to the cut._

_The pain flared across Leo's entire palm and spread up his arm, hurting more than the cut itself. But he swallowed back the whimper, and cleared his throat. "Should…you be doing that?" he managed to ask._

_"Well, really it's not too deep," Donnie replied, continuing to pat the cut with the cotton before placing it aside and beginning to clean up any lingering blood, "but it's pretty big. It'd be better to wrap it up, just in case."_

_Leo shook his head. "No, I don't mean that…I mean…we're not supposed to touch the first aid kit without Master Splinter."_

_"Oh…" The purple-masked turtle suddenly became very focused on his brother's palm. "Well…actually…Master Splinter's been…teaching me how to use it…"_

_Leo looked up. "Really?"_

_"Yeah…but I promised that I'd only use it if I really needed to."_

_"Oh…" the older brother replied, trying to keep the twinge of jealousy out of his voice._

_Donnie caught it anyway. "Actually, Master Splinter was thinking about teaching you guys how to use it too…just in case. He thinks it'd be better that we know how in case something happens while he's away."_

_"Is that why he taught you?" Leo asked, biting down the rest of the question. But he really wanted to know why Sensei taught Donnie how to use the first aid kit _first.

_"Well…kind of…" Reaching into the white box again, the purple-masked turtle pulled out a cotton pad and some bandages. "Mostly because I kept getting hurt a lot."_

_Leo frowned, watching his brother press the cotton pad to his palm. "What do you mean?"_

_"Well, when I first started taking apart this stuff," Donnie began, indicating the electronic pieces around them, "I kept getting cut or shocked a lot, and I kept going to Master Splinter so he could take care of them."_

_Leo then noticed the marks that covered his brother's hands; some were old and faded, some seemed new and stood out against the green flesh…but all of them were clearly there._

_"After a while, Master Splinter thought it would be a good idea to teach me how to use the first aid kit, just in case I hurt myself while he was out foraging. When I got better at helping myself, he started teaching me how to use it just in case I needed to help one of you guys." Donnie paused as he tied the bandage on Leo's hand. "Do you remember a few weeks ago, when Mikey sprained his ankle trying out that skateboard Master Splinter brought home?"_

_Leo nodded, recalling how Master Splinter had taken Mikey to his room with Donatello following behind him. "Did Sensei have you fix Mikey's foot?"_

_"Yeah. He was helping me and telling me what to do, but I mostly had to do it myself. It was kinda scary, but he said I did okay." Replacing what was left of the gauze into the kit, Donnie then closed the box and looked at his older brother. "How does it feel?"_

_Leo looked at his palm and flexed the fingers; the bandage was a little loose, and he could feel that the cotton pad would slip if it wasn't fixed. He held his hand back to the other. "It needs to be a little tighter."_

_Donnie adjusted the gauze, then stood and returned the first aid kit to the bathroom. When he returned, he went back to putting the electronics back in his box. Leo watched him silently, wanting to ask his brother another question but unsure how._

_He didn't get the chance to when Donnie pushed the box back under the bunk bed and turned to him. "Master Splinter's gonna be back soon. We better go find Mikey."_

_The question pressed in his mind, but Leo pushed it back with a nod. He'd just ask later. Getting to his feet, he led Donnie to the dojo. That would be a good place to start looking._

* * *

With Donnie's help, they were able to find Mikey in the dojo, hiding up in the pipe workings along the ceiling. He had fallen asleep while performing his prank for that day, "hiding-from-Leo-until-Master-Splinter-got-home." Luckily they had heard Mikey snoring and got him to come down before their Sensei and Raph returned. Leo was just glad that they found the orange-masked prankster.

He never did ask Donnie his question. After everything that happened, he found he didn't need to.

Since that time, Donatello continued treating injuries or sicknesses that their family acquired. At first, Master Splinter helped, but he eventually allowed Donnie to practice his medical skills on his own. Donnie continued to improve his skills as time went on, which proved useful when they started encountering enemies like the Shredder.

Yet Leonardo could never forget his brother's words describing that first occasion. 'It was kinda scary…' Donnie had said. Leo always wondered what he meant by that. But now he knew.

Donatello had never asked for the responsibility of treating injuries. It had been given to him only because of his interest in dangerous electronics, beginning as a precaution that evolved into an unofficial practice. It only seemed fitting, after all; who else but their brilliant brother could know exactly what to do when a serious injury needed tending? Who else could understand the difficult medical terminology when researching the body and its illnesses?

Leo had only recently realized the kind of pressure that put on Donatello. Being the only one who knew what to do made it easy to take the blame if something went wrong. Donnie constantly had to be careful when treating something, knowing that one mistake could potentially be disastrous. He had to worry about treating someone in just the right way while at the same time staying calm. With very serious injuries, keeping cool could be hard when struggling with the idea that someone could die.

What could it be like, Leo wondered, to have someone's life in your hands?

But Donnie continued to do it. He continued to treat the wounds and the sicknesses, continued to be the doctor for their family. Not just because he had to, but because he wanted to help. He wanted to care for his family, and do everything he could to make sure they were healthy…to make sure they were all right.

The one time _they_ had the opportunity to do the same for Don…they failed.

They _had _the chance to save him. When the virus was still in Donatello's system, they had the chance to help him. It seemed they had at first. They did what they had to in order to bring their brother back, to rid his body of the virus that had transformed and slowly killed him.

But it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to _save_ him in time. Now Donatello was still dying…and they were helpless to stop it.

Growling again, Leonardo slowly rose to his feet and drew his swords once more. He hated it…hated this powerless feeling, knowing there was nothing he could to do save his brother. Even when they found Donnie, he couldn't do anything to keep his brother from dying. And he _hated_ that feeling.

His swords sliced through the air, slashing through his frustration. In the dojo, his weakness was the best target. For the brief time, he imagined that he could _do_ something, that somehow his training would grant him the ability to save Don. He could pretend that his helplessness was being cut away…and he didn't have to face the harsh reality that he could do nothing.

_But you know this isn't helping. You can't hide here in the dojo all the time. You need to be out with the others. Don't do this to yourself again…None of this is your fault, and you can't keep blaming yourself. Please don't do this…_

Leonardo shut his eyes, gripping the hilts of his swords tighter. After a moment, he shook his head to release the pain those words brought…because the voice that spoke was always Donatello's.

_TBC_


	7. Chapter 6

The summer isn't progressing as much as I hoped. I thought that I'd be able to write more often now that I'm on summer break, and then I'd be able to update these stories faster. But for some reason, I seem to be writing _less _than I was during the school year. Isn't that weird?

To date, this was the hardest chapter I've written. I know I've said that about one other chapter, but this one...ugh. It was just really hard. I'm surprised I got it done.

Once again, thanks to **Super Kat** for beta-reading it! On with the story!

* * *

_Three young and curious eyes watched Donatello on his hands and knees, looking under the couch and checking under the rug before slowly crawling across the floor. After a minute, the purple-masked turtle crawled back to the couch, looking under it again. After exchanging confused glances with his other brothers, Raphael couldn't take it any longer. _

"_Donnie," he said, "what the heck are ya doin'?"_

_"Just…nothing…" Donnie replied, crawling back to the couch for the hundredth time that evening._

_The three glanced at each other once again. "Whatcha lookin' for?" Michelangelo asked._

_"Nothing…" the intelligent turtle repeated, looking under the rug._

_They watched as he crawled over to the bunk beds. "Need some help?" Leonardo offered._

_"No…I'm okay…" Don sighed, slowly crawling as he kept his eyes on the floor._

_The three looked at each other, but before they could ask their brother any more questions, Master Splinter returned from meditating in the dojo. "Time for bed, my sons," he stated._

_"Yes, Master Splinter," the three boys replied. But Donatello was still too busy to answer._

_As the others scrambled to their beds, the rat walked to his son on the floor. "Donatello," he said._

_The purple-masked turtle sighed, looking under the rug again. "I know, Master Splinter," he finally said. "Just…I just need a minute."_

_"What are you doing, my son?"_

_"That's what we were wond'rin'," Mikey said, climbing onto his bunk. As he pulled himself up, his messed blanket tumbled down onto Raph._

_"Hey, watch what yer doin' up there, nitwit!" the red-masked turtle said, pulling the sheet off his head and throwing it back onto the top bunk._

_"Raphael," Splinter admonished._

_Raph glared up as Mikey snickered softly. "Sorry, Master," he muttered. When their sensei turned back to the brother looking under the couch again, he stuck his tongue out at Mikey before pulling back the covers._

_"Hey Raph?" Leo said just as the other was about to crawl into bed. "What's that?"_

_Raphael turned towards the other curiously. "What's what?"_

_Leo pointed. "There's something on the back of your head."_

_Michelangelo peered down from his bunk. "It looks kinda like a spider," he said._

_From the corner of his eye, Raph saw Donnie and Splinter look in his direction. But he could only think of the faint touch of tiny legs crawling down his neck. His heart pounded against his plastron when he realized the spider was going to crawl inside his shell. He tried to hide the panic in his voice as he said, "Someone get it off me…!"_

_"Be careful, Raph!" Leo warned, jumping to his feet. "It could be poisonous!"_

_"I didn' need ta hear that!" Raph snapped. "Just get it offa me!"_

_The blue-masked turtle reached for his pillow. "Okay…" he said, slowly approaching the other. "Lemme just…"_

_"I got it!" Mikey exclaimed, grabbing his own pillow._

_"No, Mikey don't!" But Leo could only watch as his youngest brother jumped off his bunk bed, smacking Raph with the pillow as he tackled him to the ground._

_"That's enough," Splinter said, pulling the orange banded turtle off Raphael and taking the pillow._

_"Oops," Mikey said with a sheepish smile. "I think I missed it."_

_Rubbing his head, Raph jumped to his feet and glared at his younger brother. "Yeah, I bet you did…" His voice trailed off as he looked around frantically. "Where is it?! Where'd it go?!"_

_"Calm down, Raph," Leonardo said, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Don't worry about it. It's gone now."_

_"No!" Raph retorted, pulling away from the other's touch as he continued to look around. "It's still around here somewhere! Like you said, it could be poisonous!"_

_Leo raised a curious eyebrow. "Since when do you listen to me?"_

_Raph ignored the comment. "We need ta kill it!" he insisted, stepping towards the bunk beds. As he reached for his pillow, he jumped into Leo when a dark brown spot with eight legs crawled across his bed. "There it is! Someone kill it!"_

_"No!" Donatello said suddenly. He was kneeling by the couch, reaching under it. "Don't kill it! I'll get it!" Pulling out a jar and a lid, he then ran over to the bunk beds. The spider rested at the foot of the bed, and the purple-masked turtle carefully moved the sheets back before placing the jar on top of the arachnid. Easing the lid underneath the jar, he then lifted it off the bed and closed the container with the spider inside._

_Taking a step back from the bunk bed, Donnie looked at the spider in the jar and avoided the curious gazes of his family. "It's, uh…not poisonous," he said softly, waiting as the spider crawled against the sides of the glass jar before slowly turning it right side-up. "It's a vibrating spider, and it's pretty harmless."_

_"Is that what you were looking for earlier, Donatello?" Splinter asked._

_"Uh…Yes, Sensei," Donnie answered. "I found it in the dojo after practice this morning."_

_"But why would ya wanna keep somethin' like _that_ anyway?" Raph demanded. He curled his fingers to stop his hand from shaking. "Bugs are so gross!"_

_"It's not really a bug," Donnie corrected. "It's an arachnid."_

_Mikey laughed suddenly. "Y'know Raph, I bet Donnie was waitin' to put the spider in your bed, so you'd freak out."_

_"You mean like the way he was freaking out before?" Leo asked, a touch of amusement hidden in his voice._

_"Yeah, kinda like that!"_

_Donnie shook his head. "Nu-uh!" he replied. "I just wanted to study the way it moves on its web, that's all! But I guess I didn't close the jar properly, so it got out. I didn't mean for it to scare you, Raph."_

_The red-masked turtle glared at the younger one. "I _wasn't _scared!" he snapped. "It just…surprised me, s'all."_

_"You were _so_ scared!" Mikey taunted. "When you saw that spider, you jumped so much higher than you did during training!"_

_Splinter sighed. "That is enough," he said before Raphael had a chance to answer back. "It is getting late, and all of you should go to sleep."_

_Raphael bit his tongue as he looked at his bed. While Leo and Mikey climbed into their bunks, the red-masked turtle carefully lifted his blanket and looked at the mattress underneath._

_"Is anything wrong, Raphael?" Splinter asked._

_"Uh…no Master Splinter," Raph replied, trying not to cringe as he climbed into bed. Sitting on his knees, he lifted his pillow and looked under it._

_Watching Raphael with an uncertain expression, Splinter then turned to the purple-masked turtle and held out his paw. Donnie hesitated, looking at the jar in his hands. "You're not gonna kill it, are you?" he asked._

_"No," Splinter assured. "It will stay in the living room for tonight, and we will decide what to do with it in the morning."_

_Satisfied, Donatello nodded and held the jar up to the master. As Splinter went to place the jar on the table, Donnie tried to ignore Raph's angry look as he climbed up to his bunk bed._

_Hanging over the edge of his bed, Mikey looked at Raph. "Don't worry," the orange-banded turtle said with a mischievous grin. "I'm sure the spider didn't lay eggs in your bed."_

_Raph smacked the other with his pillow. "Shut up, Mikey!" he snapped._

_Donnie frowned. "But Mikey…it's a male spider…"_

_"Yeah," Mikey continued on, "and you shouldn't think about what would happen if the eggs hatched and crawled into your brain."_

_With a growl, Raph punched the mattress above him as hard as he could, hoping to topple the younger turtle over. He never considered _that _idea before. A shudder coursed through his body, but he hid it by punching the mattress again._

_"Raphael," Splinter reprimanded as he returned to his sons' beds. He turned to Leonardo. "Leonardo, please exchange beds with Raphael for tonight."_

_The blue-masked turtle nodded. "Yes Sensei," he answered._

_Raphael frowned a little. Sleeping in Leo's bed would have been a lot better if it wasn't right under Donatello's. After all, it was all Donnie's fault for keeping that stupid spider to begin with._

_After tucking each of the boys in, Splinter shut off the light and retreated to his own room. _

_No matter how tired Raph was, he couldn't sleep. How could he, knowing that _thing _was just in the other room? If it got out of the jar once, why couldn't it get out again? And how would Donnie know it's a boy, anyway? What if the spider got out and laid eggs while they were all asleep? Then the lair would be swarming with spiders! Raph clenched his fists and pulled the blanket tighter around him._

_'Stupid Donnie,' he thought. 'Why'd he hafta keep that stupid spider in the lair, anyway?'_

_The mattress above him moved, shaking the entire wooden frame of the bunk with a low creak. Raph glared up at the bed when it moved again. He didn't know that Don moved around so much when he slept. How did Leo put up with it?_

_Raphael rolled onto his side with a yawn, ignoring the bunk bed shaking and groaning as his younger brother tossed and turned. He closed his eyes and tried once more to go to sleep. He tried not to think about the spider, even when its image burned underneath his eyelids; it inched closer and closer to his head, spinning a web over his mouth before slowly crawling into his ear and…_

_His body jerked him awake even though he hadn't been fully asleep. Rubbing his eyes, he sighed and wondered how long he had laid there. The bed above him shifted and creaked again, and it was really starting to annoy him. But just as Raphael was about to kick the mattress, he saw two small feet hang over the edge of the top bed. He lay as still as he could, watching through the darkness as Donatello slowly climbed down the steps of the bunk. When he reached the bottom, the other quietly made his way to the living room._

_Raph rolled his eyes. Donnie was probably going to study his bug even though they were supposed to be sleeping. How could Don get near that thing? Bugs were so weird and nasty, and Raph couldn't stand them._

_All of his thoughts came to a halt when Donnie came back into view. At first he thought that his brother was heading back to bed. But then he watched with wide eyes as Donnie left the lair._

_Raph sat up quickly. It was one thing to be up when they were supposed to be sleeping. But to leave the lair? Alone? They were _never _supposed to go out of the lair by themselves! What if Donnie got hurt?_

_Without another thought, he threw his blanket off and jumped out of bed. Then as quietly as he could, he ran out of the lair after his younger brother._

_The tunnel that led out of the lair went only one way for a while, but Raph had no idea which direction to take when he got to the fork. He didn't know why Donnie left the lair to begin with, and without a clue what Donnie was up to he couldn't guess where the other was heading. Still, he knew had to try and find Donnie in case something happened to him._

_As he passed one of the ladders that led to the surface, he heard a metallic scraping sound echo against the sewer walls. He slowed to a stop, listening to the noise for a moment before backing up to the ladder. Looking up the steps, Raph could just make out the small shelled silhouette at the top of the ladder pushing against the manhole cover._

_Raph knew exactly who it was up there, so he didn't worry as he called up, "Donnie!"_

_"Whoa!" he heard the other cry out, and his eyes widened beneath his bandana when he saw Donnie slip and fall down the ladder._

_"I gotcha Donnie!" Raph said, positioning himself under the other and holding his arms out. Unfortunately his aim was slightly off, and instead of landing in Raph's waiting arms, Donnie crashed onto Raph's shell and sent both of them tumbling to the ground._

_The purple-masked turtle groaned softly and rubbed his head. Looking down and realizing that he was on top of his brother, he gasped and scrambled to get up. "Raph, are you okay?" he asked, kneeling in front of the other._

_Raph groaned, looking up at the younger turtle. "Just dandy…" he muttered, pushing himself up._

_"I'm sorry, Raph! I didn't mean to land on you…" Donnie paused, looking at Raph with a curious frown. "What're you doing out here, anyway?"_

_"I was just about to ask _you_ the same thin'," Raph replied._

_Donnie looked away, fiddling with something in his hands. "I just…had to do something, that's all."_

_"Why would ya –?" Raphael stopped when he realized what his brother was holding. "Isn't that the jar…you were keepin' the spider in?"_

_"Oh…well…yeah…"_

_"What the shell are ya doin' with that thing?!" Raph demanded, jumping to his feet. "I followed ya out here because you wanted ta play with your pet spider?!"_

_"No Raph!" Donnie replied. "That's not why –!"_

_"So what then?" Raph retorted, his fists clenching at his sides. "Were you out here gettin' _more_ spiders? Gettin' more bugs ta fill the lair and –"_

_"I let it go, Raph! The spider's gone!"_

_Raph froze, his eyes widening. "You let it go?" he repeated._

_Donnie nodded, pointing up at the manhole. "Up there. So you don't have to worry about it here or anything."_

_"But…I thought you wanted ta study it or whatever."_

_"Well, yeah…" Donnie continued to play with the jar in his hands. "I read a little about vibrating spiders, and I wanted to see how they rotate on their webs…but I couldn't keep it now that _you _know about it."_

_"Me?" Raph asked, pointing to himself._

_Donnie nodded again. "That's why I was trying to find it by myself before. I couldn't ask you to help, and Mikey couldn't keep a secret to save his life. Leo would have helped me look for it, but he wouldn't have kept it a secret unless I gave him a good enough reason, and I couldn't tell him it was because of you."_

_Raphael held up his hands. "Okay, wait…What do _I _gotta do with it?"_

_"Well, I didn't want you to know that I had the spider since you're afraid of bugs and everything…"_

_"I'm _not _afraid of bugs!"_

_Donnie paused, looking at the jar he held before looking at Raph. "That's why I was trying to hide the spider before…so you wouldn't know I had it. I didn't mean for it to get out and scare you. Please don't be mad at me, Raphie…"_

_Raph was about to repeat that he was _not _afraid of the spider, but quickly closed his mouth. Even in the dim sewer lights, he could see the small tears forming behind the purple bandana. He shook his head and sighed. "C'mon, don't be a baby, Donnie. I ain't mad at ya."_

_Donnie sniffled softly. "Really?"_

_"No…well, not anymore anyway. But you gotta stop sayin' I'm afraid of bugs."_

_The younger turtle looked at him skeptically, but nodded anyway. "Okay."_

_Raphael frowned a little, unsure of what else to say. "Well, um…" he attempted, "we…uh…better get back to the lair."_

_"Okay," Donnie replied, following Raph home._

* * *

Raphael opened his eyes, blinking through the darkness to stare at the ceiling of his room. He frowned, unsure how late it was or when he had dozed off. He remembered coming into his room after they returned from being topside, and the last thing he recalled was thinking about Donnie. Thinking about how little time his brother had left…worrying about what Donnie was possibly going through right now…and wondering why he never _told _anyone what was happening.

Sitting up in his bed, Raph found himself chuckling. At least his dream made some sense now. After all, Donnie never did like causing trouble for others if he could help it, whether it was about a spider…or himself. Don probably never said anything about his condition because he didn't want anyone to be bothered by it.

But even though Donnie meant well and never _intended_ to cause trouble, trouble seemed to happen anyway.

Raph sighed, driving away the remaining sleep from his eyes. It didn't matter what time it was, he didn't feel like going back to sleep. Because, though he didn't like to think too much, so many thoughts wouldn't leave him alone.

That was probably the reason behind Donnie's troubles…thinking too much. Personally, Raph preferred to react quickly with reflexive actions. If he spent a lot of time thinking, it would only give him a chance to wonder, to question…to doubt. That was just something he couldn't afford to do.

He couldn't imagine what it was like for someone like Donnie. Always having to consider _every_ little detail…always having to look over _everything _that _might_ go wrong. After taking into account _every possible thing_ that could happen, how could someone decide _anything_?

Plus even someone as smart as Don could overlook something, no matter how long he thought the matter over. In Raph's memory for example, for all Don's thinking, he didn't think about what would happen if the spider got out. And for all Don's thinking, he didn't think about what would happen if the rest of his family learned of his weakening condition, no matter how hard he tried to keep it a secret.

Don never meant to cause trouble. But sometimes he just spent so much time thinking, trouble happened before he could do anything about it.

Even so, Raph had to admit that he really respected his brother's ability to think. Not only because Donnie took the time to consider what might go wrong, but also because he risked doing something _despite_ it. He couldn't imagine how hard it must be to try something even when you know how bad it could turn out. To come up with the very _worst _possibility, and then taking the chance to do it anyway took a lot of guts.

Raph really admired that about his younger brother. That was probably why he found himself thinking a lot more since Donnie's disappearance.

Even after Raph spent a month trying to convince his brother, Leo was still being a pain in the shell and refusing to check out Foot Central. In normal circumstances, Raph would have just gone ahead and checked the place out anyway. He actually tried to do so a while ago. But just when he had managed to sneak out of the lair, he found that Mikey had followed him. He had a feeling that Mikey would follow him even if he went to Foot headquarters, and as much as it annoyed him he found himself thinking.

If he went ahead into Foot headquarters, Mikey and Leo would follow him in no matter what. And while they were all capable of taking care of themselves, it was still dangerous. He was sure he could handle himself, but he didn't like the idea of Leo and Mikey having to look for him _and _Donnie while avoiding all the potential dangers in the building.

After all, he already sentenced one brother to death. He wasn't going to do the same to his other two.

It had taken Raph a lot of time to realize that information. There was too much to worry about when Donnie was first infected with the mutagen virus to really think about anything other than finding a way to cure Don. But after hearing about Don's current predicament, he could finally see how it was all his fault.

Leatherhead told them that Donnie's health was failing because of previous damage from the virus. Afterwards, the scene of how Donnie acquired the virus constantly replayed in Raph's mind, reminding him of how it happened. He was only trying to help after Donnie had taken a fall. But there was no time to think when the mutated monster attacked them with a wave of claws. As always, his reflexes reacted first, and he pushed Don out of the way.

And right into the path of the claw that cut him.

It was an accident, of course. But it didn't change the fact that it was _his _fault that Don had been infected with the virus. It was _his _fault that Donnie was still dying now. He didn't think about his actions that day…and it had ultimately killed his brother.

Did Donnie know it was his fault? With all the time the intelligent turtle spent thinking, did he come to that same conclusion and blame him…the way he blamed himself?

Raphael growled softly, clenching his fists as he lay back in his bed. Then he sighed and pulled off his mask, throwing it against the opposite wall. They _had _to find Donnie soon, or he'd never get the chance to apologize. He _needed_ to tell Don how sorry he was, and say everything else he never said before. Maybe it wouldn't help save his brother, but it could certainly show Don just how much he was really cared for….Because he deserved to know.

"I should just go look for 'im myself," he muttered, his own voice pounding in his ears against the dark stillness. "I shoulda done it a long time ago!"

_But what about Leo and Mikey? You don't know what will happen when they go after you. You can't just endanger them like that._

Raph shook his head, trying to rid his thoughts of the Donnie-like voice. _This_ was the kind of hesitation he tried to avoid – the kind that came with deep thinking. He hated waiting for the go-ahead. And he couldn't understand why Leo was taking so long to do something else – _anything _else – to find their missing brother, besides looking around the city for the zillionth time. Donnie only had three months left! They needed to do something soon.

But the guilt eating away at him prevented him from doing what he should have. Because even though Leo was annoying as hell recently, he couldn't bring himself to do anything that could put Leo and Mikey in trouble.

He'd already done enough of that.

So Raph would wait, no matter how much it irritated him. And just because he had to wait didn't mean he couldn't keep convincing Leo to check out his idea. He would just have to try harder.

But he couldn't just sit around waiting forever. He had to _do_ something.

With a frustrated sigh, Raphael sat up again and got out of bed. After retrieving his mask, he walked out of his room and into the open darkness of the lair. He figured that a late-night snack might help him get back to sleep.

He never made it to the kitchen, however, and instead found himself standing at Donatello's workstation. Though the computer was shut down, Leatherhead had left the monitor on after he finished looking for some of Donnie's notes about Bishop's mutagen. Even after so many months of searching, the croc still had no way to help Don's condition. He continued to try, but he still couldn't find any cure.

Raph scowled, fingering one of Donnie's unfinished gadgets. At least Leatherhead was _doing _something useful. Ever since he realized Don's weakening state was _his_ fault, Raph thought about finding a way to fix it. Part of him hoped _he _could find some way to heal his brother, to repair the damage he caused.

He snorted. "Yeah right," he muttered. "_Donnie_ couldn't find a cure, even with Leatherhead's help. How th' shell am _I _supposed ta?"

But as he continued to toy with the gizmo in his hand, Raph once again found himself thinking. Back when Donnie transformed, Leatherhead told them he wouldn't be able cure Don. Yet Stockman had a way to change Donnie back. So why was Stockman able to do it when Leatherhead couldn't?

Was it because Stockman…had access to better technology?

Raph frowned and scratched the top of his head. Donnie and Leatherhead were smart…but no matter how awesome their stuff was, most of their gear was limited to what they could find and make changes to. Stockman, on the other hand, had access to the best equipment available. There was little he _couldn't _do with that kind of stuff.

So…if Leatherhead could get better technology…would he be able to find a cure for Donnie?

The red-banded ninja glanced at the dim computer screen and switched it off. He'd run it by Leatherhead in the morning. He wasn't particularly close to the crocodile, especially after the incident with Mikey…but he would do anything if it would save Donnie.

Obviously, though, it wouldn't be easy to get that kind of stuff. But depending on what the croc needed, April might be able to get a hold of _something_. Maybe Raph could even convince Leo that they could get things from places nearby. It was to help Donnie, after all; surely Fearless Leader would approve of _that_.

It was worth a shot, at least. But even if it worked, there would be no point…if they couldn't find Don in time to help him.

Raph sighed. "Just hold on, Donnie. You gotta hold on…"

_TBC_


End file.
